Truth's Magic
by Aretee
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is over and the Dark Lord has been vanquished. Lives and relationships are being rebuilt, but Hermione has to come clean about her past to Ron before they can build a future together. Will Ron stand by her once he knows? Truth does have its own liberating magic. All honor to JKR. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1 A Secret Revealed

**Story Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is over and the Dark Lord has been vanquished. Lives and relationships are being rebuilt, but Hermione has to come clean about her past to Ron before they can build a future. Will Ron stand by her when he knows?**

**A/N: Welcome to my first, full Harry Potter fanfic. I'm trying to follow canon as much as possible, with just a little twist. Thanks to my two betas: EStrunk and MarinaNamaste who teach me too much to even acknowledge here. Any remaining mistakes are my own.**

**I plan to update about once a week or once every two weeks. I'm trying a new approach called being patient and get it right the first time. That's new for me. So, here we go:**

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"'Mione, come here," Ron called me from my little living room. He had that tone in his voice that made the butterflies in my stomach flutter in a massive swirling frenzy. I'd told him to wait there while I did the washing up. His voice pulled me to him as if it had its own magic. I swished my wand and set the dishes in motion and I went to him, butterflies and all.

He sat right in the middle of my little sofa, all red hair and blue eyes. That combination had always struck me as being oddly beautiful and I reconsidered it again as I approached him. He smirked at my approving smile and, when I was close enough, he grabbed my hand and pulled me down onto his lap. Helping Ginny train for Quidditch had strengthened his broad shoulders and arms and they held me firmly to him. I yelped as I fell into his lap and my giggle was swallowed by a kiss he planted right on my mouth. It made my toes curl in delight.

I somehow maneuvered myself so I was sitting astride him. It gave me better access to his neck. He smelled of mint and musk and he tasted even better. His hands found a strip of skin above the waistband of my trousers and it wasn't long before I felt his whole hand, which was large and warm, slide up my bare back under the fabric. My back arched at his touch and my hips rotated against his evident desire causing both of us to moan. I knew where this was going, and I wanted it go there.

"Ron, there's something I have to talk to you about," I said pulling away a little breathless. I was nervous. It'd been four months since he finally, _finally_ kissed me during the Battle of Hogwarts and, while I loved Ron and was happy with our new closeness, I was keeping something from him. And it was killing me.

I'd had a crush on Ron for ages—I think it started watching him play chess. Seeing him plan and strategize and then kick his opponent's arse (usually Harry's) brought out that sexy Weasley confidence that Ron, for some reason, sometimes lacked in the shadow of his brothers and even Ginny. But then there was that whole Lavender thing. It took me a long time to get over that. But, now he's leaning into me, with that cocky smile, expecting me to kiss the lips I had desired for so long. I obliged him, but I couldn't give him everything he wanted. Not yet.

"What?" He said chasing my lips with a nip of his. "The best conversations are had between kisses." His lips brushed down my neck igniting my passion and my guilt in equal measure. It was hard to resist the pull towards him, but I had to.

"Not this one," I said forcing myself to pull back. His face grew serious and full of worry. The combination of love and concern evident on his features broke my heart. He loved me so much. And that was what was going to make this even more painful. Our feelings had always been stronger than we declared, but our timing stunk. My involvement with another was unintentional and unplanned. And now that he was gone I was hurting and grieving. I needed Ron's help and understanding.

"'Mione, what is it?" he twirled a stray curl and tucked behind my ear. His finger lingered behind my ear and his thumb came down and pinched the lobe gently. I turned my face into his hand.

"Well, I had a relationship that I don't think you knew about. I need to tell you about it before this goes any further." My eyes found his clear baby blues. There was no anger there and that bolstered my confidence a little. "I just don't want there to be any secrets."

"Alright," Ron said. "But I know about Krum. And you guys only kissed, right? I mean, he wasn't here long enough for there to be much else." My heart sank. It wasn't Krum and I had done much more than kiss.

My surreptitious relationship began as way to relieve some pain and stress which then morphed into fascinated curiosity. Then, I actually fell for the bloke. And Ron had still been with Lavender.

"It wasn't Krum." I looked away and then down at my hands. "I mean, I kissed Viktor—and it was nice. But, you're right, I only kissed him." I could feel the blush as its heat spread up my neck and across my cheeks.

"So…umm…" He cleared his throat. "you've been with someone else." He cleared his throat again. "Like…_with_ someone else?" He squeaked and his voice jumped an octave. I needed him to be okay with this. And, I needed him to not dwell on the extent of how physical the relationship was.

"Yes." I reached out for his hand and he pulled away. That hurt. I knew I needed to give him some time to absorb this and to think it through. I remembered how hard it was to hear the girls' gossip about what Ron and Lavender got up to—and where. I moved off his lap and onto the sofa next to him and looked at the floor. He must have realized that pulling away hurt me, because he then turned to me.

"I'm sorry." His hand reached for mine. "I just wasn't expecting that." I could see the struggle play across his freckled face. He wanted to ask who. And he didn't. I was glad he was touching me, though. He wasn't disgusted with me. He had no reason to be.

"Was it…" he stammered. "I mean—I want to know, but I don't want to know—but I have to know." He pulled his hand away again and ran it through his thick red locks. I wondered if I'd ever be allowed to do that again. I could tell he had someone particular in mind, but I didn't know which possibility was causing him such pain. My heart stammered and my tongue stayed glued to the bottom of my mouth.

"Harry? Was it Harry?" he finally managed to bite out.

"No!" I said in a rush. "Merlin, no! He'd never have done that to Ginny. I never lied to you about that," I said. "I never lied about anything, Ron, ever. I just didn't tell anyone."

"Not even Harry? Did Harry know?" Ron was worried Harry kept something from him, obviously. He stood up and began to pace. "Well? Did he?" He didn't shout, his voice sounded pained and that actually made it worse.

"No," I muttered running my hands down my thighs to dry my sweaty palms. "Why does it matter if Harry knew?" Ron stopped and looked at me with cold eyes. His insecurities were back. I sighed inwardly. While I loved all of Ron, I did not appreciate this side of him.

"Because I just found out that my girlfriend has shagged someone else and I want to know if my best mate knew about it and hid it from me. That's why. I want to know if they were having a laugh at me behind my back," he spat.

He was hurt and angry and I had expected that, but his double standard made me angry. He'd shagged Lavender and he had admitted that he didn't love her and he had never pretended to love her. He told me he did it more to placate her than anything. I didn't just shag—and just like Ron's involvement with Lavender, it wasn't a one-time affair.

"No, Harry didn't know and he still doesn't." Ron seemed to calm a bit. "He knows that I am extremely troubled over something and he's begged me to tell him, but I refused to put him in that situation." I set a cold glare at him. "I know how anxious you can get."

I knew that last part was cold, and I didn't mean it to hurt him. But, Ron's constant insecurity was going to be a major stumbling block in our relationship, like it had been in our friendship, if we didn't address it soon and thoroughly.

"Yeah, knowing I can walk into a room with the man you secretly fucked tends to make a bloke a little unsure of himself—whether or not you lied about it," he snarled. He started pacing again. I stood up and blocked his path when he turned back around.

"First of all, I didn't fuck anyone. That's what you did with Lavender and shoved it in my face." Ron looked up at the ceiling at this accusation. I thought it was about time we addressed that issue, too. "I had a mutually beneficial and equally felt relationship born out of the hurt, anger, and bitterness that your casual relationship caused me. Is that what bothers you? That is was mutual? He comforted me because he knew what a wanker you were." I covered my mouth when that slipped out. That was not going to help his insecurities, but I didn't care. He needed to face the damn things instead of always cowering to them. He struggled to regain control of himself and I watched the hurt, anger, and fear wash across his face. I didn't know if he finally understood what I felt or if it just hurt that I had a relationship with someone other than him.

"What else?" Ron asked his voice calm again but his face barely hid his pain.

"What?" I asked confused.

"What else? You said 'first of all' which means you had a list. What else do you need to tell me about this 'relationship'?" He moved his fingers in the quotation gesture to show he didn't quite like the idea of my other relationship.

"Well, I already listed the others." It struck me that Ron caught on to my listing technique. But I guessed I needed to clarify. "I really don't think you have a reason to be upset because it began _after_ you were involved with Lavender and it ended _before_ you kissed me during the battle." There was a problem with my logic and I knew it.

Ron and I had been flirting, in private, since Ron was released from hospital after being poisoned during sixth year. We only let Harry see our hand holding and long glances. There were a few times when I thought for sure Ron was going to kiss me so I subtly ended the moment so I wouldn't be unfaithful to either of them. Then, when Ron deserted Harry and me while looking for the Horcruxes—well let's say there are a few forests scattered throughout Britain that I'd blush in if I ever returned to them.

Early on in our search for Horcruxes I'd found a Weasley's Lucky Dip box in my beaded bag and when I opened it, there was a self-writing quill on which he'd used a Protean charm similar to the one I'd used on the DA coins. It was after listening to Potterwatch one night that I retrieved the quill and whispered to it. My voice brought it to life and there we were writing to each other. I longed to see him—Ron had left and I was miserable, and Harry was already overburdened. We created a series of clues based on personal information that led us to each other. I knew it was dangerous to meet him, but I needed him so much when Ron pulled away from me. Harry never knew because we always met on my watch and I'd cultivated the Fianto Duri spell making our tent almost as protected as Hogwarts. So I followed the clues that led us to different forests and our mutual need was always temporarily sated.

"I see. So I don't get to be upset?" Ron asked pulling me out of my thoughts.

I sighed, "that's not what I'm saying Ron. Seeing you with Lavender hurt me. I understand the hurt you're feeling. Try to understand that what you're feeling right now hurt me so much then, that I was debilitated. I couldn't work, I couldn't study." I saw anger flash across his face. "Ronald, I'm not blaming, I'm explaining." He calmed again—a little.

"He saw this and he started talking to me. He studied with me. He listened to me. I couldn't do that with Harry because, well, I knew it would hurt you if I did. So I started spending more time with him so you could be with Harry and then, one thing led to another. And it felt so good to be wanted by someone that_ I_ liked, because boys who did liked me, like McLaggen, I couldn't stand to be around. And I was so grateful for everything he had done for me." I paused. I was getting to the hard part. "But, I don't think this person was a much better choice than Harry in terms of not hurting you." I peeked up at him again. He was trying to stay calm and listen to me.

"Hermione, I can understand all that. It hurts, but I can understand it." His voice was pained and resigned. His eyes softened. "But I am always going to wonder, whenever we walk into a room with other people from school, if he is there."

"You don't have to worry about that," I said. He looked at me.

"Why?"

"He's dead," I said. That only left him with three feasible options. I watched his eyes as his mind worked through it. There were many who died in the battle, but only three who would have been at school with us and would match what I had already revealed.

"Not, Creevy or Crabbe." He said with a hint of a smile. I loved the Weasley ability to find humor in everything. It's was what drew me to the family as a whole; my family was much more serious and I needed the Weasleys' levity. I shook my head and his ghost of his smile evaporated like smoke.

"No," he whispered in disbelief. I could tell he knew. I could see him putting the pieces together and connecting the dots. So many conversations Ron had witnessed took on new meanings because we had not been very careful. People just chose not to see. Ron knew and his mouth inaudibly whispered his name.

"I loved Fred," I said. "But I ended it with him because I love you more."

The bang of the slamming door provided the audio track for my breaking heart. Ron was gone and I didn't know when or if he would come back. I had to tell him, though. I couldn't honor, and sufficiently mourn, the wonderful man that was Fred Weasley by keeping the feelings I had for him hidden like a dirty secret.

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**A/N: So friends, tell me what you think. Reviews help me improve both good and bad. I have a pretty thick skin, but silence hurts me deeply. Help me, please.**


	2. Chapter 2 Secret Pains

**A/N: Wow! The response was very exciting. I'm glad that many of you didn't see my little surprise coming. That made me happy. So much gratitude for not being a Dramione (which I actually enjoy quite a bit-Dramiones that are well done). Of course the website only allows me to tag four characters in my summary, and I didn't include Fred. **

**I even got a Hermione hater who wishes that Ron doesn't forgive her. I have many chapters already in the works, so I want it known that there will be no big plot changes from what I have originally envisioned. So some of you will be happy and some of you will...not...be. I'm not saying who gets what though.**

**So, here we go with Chapter 2!**

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I wasn't aware of where I was going until I ended up there. I pounded on the door because I had to hear it from his lips.

"What the bloody hell?" Harry called through the door of 12, Grimmauld Place. I could hear him thumping and cursing as he tripped his way to the door in the dark.

"Hurry up! It's bloody cold out here," I called. It was still technically summer, but I wasn't wearing much when I apparated and the night air was damp and chilly.

"Ron?" He asked as he finally got the last deadbolt unlocked. I never understood why he bothered with all of those muggle locks especially with all the magical concealments there were on the place and I asked as much when he finally got the damn door open.

"Because, you great prat, we didn't want anyone bothering us!" My sister yelled from behind Harry's half-naked body. He was only wearing pair of boxers and Ginny was wearing one of his quidditch practice jerseys—and nothing else. I wondered if I was the only one not having sex on the planet.

"Ginny, what the hell? Does mum know you're staying here?" The wand that had dropped to her side rose again and pointed at my heart.

"No, nor will she if you know what's good for you!" she hissed.

"Gin." Harry pleaded and turned back to me. "It's not what it looks like," he looked down at himself, "and I see it looks pretty bad."

"It doesn't matter what it looks like," Ginny interrupted. "What the hell are you doing here? Where's Hermione?"

"Well, dear almost-naked sister, she's at her flat where I left her after she told me about shagging our brother." I pushed my way in and headed down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. I needed a drink. I went straight to the cabinet that I knew held the fire whiskey.

"Ron?" Ginny followed me and her voice had lost its irritation and was weighted with concern. "What are you talking about?" I found a glass and poured the amber liquid almost to the top. Still standing at the counter, two gulps were all I could take before I stopped for a breather. I wasn't a drinker.

"Ron?" Harry asked. He had summoned a pair of trousers from his bedroom and pulled them on.

"Did you know?" I asked Harry turning away from the cabinets and towards the man who was supposed to be my best mate. "Did you know that Hermione was shagging Fred?"

"No," Harry spluttered shaking his head. "I didn't know that. I know she's been off for a few weeks, but she wouldn't tell me what it was about." I knew Harry was telling me the truth because I believed that Hermione wouldn't tell him for exactly the reason she stated. "Plausible deniability" she'd called it. And, as much as I was hurt, I trusted Hermione. I slumped down into a kitchen chair which scraped loudly across the wooden floor. I took another pull from my drink, and I let the warmth of the fire whiskey relax me as it wound its way through my insides. I looked at Ginny who was shifting from one foot to the other.

"Ginny, quit biting your lip and tell me what you know," I said as I winced through the last of the glass in front of me. She always bit her lip when she was hiding something. The hollow thunk of the empty glass on the table resonated in my aching heart. I reached for the bottle and poured myself another.

"I don't know much." She admitted. "Hermione never told me anything. I…" she was searching for words and I looked up at her. "I walked on them snogging one time in the kitchen. I waited for her to tell me something and she never did so I just figured it was a one-time thing and she was embarrassed about it." Harry sat down next to me and Ginny took the stool across from me. "I mean, it was Fred. Who took him seriously?"

"She shagged Fred?" Harry asked to himself quietly and a little confused. It looked like he was trying to put things together in his head, too. "What did she say?" He looked up at me. "I mean, why did she reveal this now?"

"She said that she couldn't let things go any further without being honest with me. She said that she loved him." I choked up a little bit. When I tried to figure out all the things I felt, that was the part that hurt the most. She loved Fred and had a relationship with him. "If it had just been sex or just one time, I think I could handle this better. But she loved him." I took another swig of my fire whiskey and laid my head on the table.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Ginny said. "You're saying you'd rather her sleep around than have something meaningful with someone as cool as Fred?"

"That's the problem, Ginny!" I yelled, raising my head and letting out some of emotion I was trying to keep bottled up. "How am I ever going to compete with that?"

My voice echoed through the kitchen, ringing in the late night air of the stale and musty kitchen. Neither one of them said a word. My whole life had been in the shadow of my brothers and now my love life was going to be in the shadow of the dead one who has become a national wizarding martyr. I downed the rest of the glass and I didn't care that it set my throat on fire. I half wished I could oblivate my own memory. I poured myself another in an attempt.

"Ron, you're not going to have to compete with anyone." Ginny's voice was soft again. "Hermione's mind doesn't work like that. Her heart doesn't either." I didn't look at her. I took another drink. Some tiny part of my mind knew she was right, but the message hadn't reached my heart. And, I wasn't done wallowing. I was good at wallowing and I knew it was what prolonged my agony many times over the years. Why couldn't I just let it go? "Ron." She waited for me to look up at her. I ignored her for a few seconds and took another drink. "Ronnie." She repeated and I grudgingly looked up at her hating the use of my childhood name.

"What?" I knew what. But I was too stubborn to give in.

"Don't disrespect Hermione or Fred that way. I know you're hurting, but don't do that or you'll kick yourself later." Ginny said. I just grunted because, again, I knew she was right. I took another drink.

Harry still seemed lost in his thoughts. "I've been worried about her for weeks and now this all makes sense. Ron, I think you should probably talk to her about this, but not tonight. Go take one of the spare rooms and go back to see her tomorrow." Harry urged. I knew the effects of the whiskey I had hastily swallowed would hit me fast and hard and I didn't think mum would be too chuffed to find me sloshed.

"Fine." I finally agreed. "I'll share a room with my sister who I'm pretty sure should be at Hogwarts." I gave a protective fraternal glare. "How did you get here anyway?" My words sounded a little garbled because they felt too big for my mouth, like they wouldn't fit in there.

Ginny blushed a little. "Kreacher." I didn't understand the reference so I just stared at her.

"House elves can apparate and disapparate from Hogwarts and we were testing to see whether or not they could do side along apparition from there. That's why she's dressed like that." Harry blushed, too. "We were talking and wondering how we could possibly see each other before the first Hogsmeade weekend." I knew that they had the two-way mirrors and used them to chat while Ginny was still at school so I decided to believe them.

"I guess I should head back before I'm missed." Ginny said and she reached up to kiss Harry. I was beginning to feel the fire whiskey now and it made me rather sluggish. Harry bent down to kiss her and it wasn't as chaste as a brother would wish to see. They whispered sweet little nothings to each other and I thought about what I had been doing earlier that evening, before Hermione's confession, and then I started to get angry all over again.

"Bloody hell, knock it off already!" I yelled through my irritated haze and my words sounded even more slurred and garbled. They broke apart and Ginny glared at me.

"Ron, you better get this thing sorted. Hermione levels you out and tonight is proof." Ginny said and before I could reply she called for Kreacher. "Hey, buddy. Can you take me back?"

"As you wish, Miss Ginny. I will serve your pure blood until Master Potter says I mayn't." Kreacher croaked and bowed low. He'd been much more pleasant since we told him the Regulus had been vindicated. With one more kiss to Harry's lips and a nod to the knobbly little elf, Ginny and Kreacher disappeared with a crack.

"Come on, mate, let's get you upstairs." Harry said to me as I staggered up out of my chair and took a few wobbly steps.

"Merlin, I love that woman, Harry. Why did she have to love Fred first?" I asked. I didn't understand why people drank to numb the pain because I was feeling it all right now and I had no ability to stop it or the words that accompanied them. "Why do I always get my brother's hand-me-downs? Their sloppy seconds?" We had made it to the first landing and my mental pain seemed to keep me from climbing the stairs normally.

"Ron, don't be silly. You had Hermione's heart long before Fred did." Harry tried to placate me.

"Then why did he get to kiss her before me? Shag her before me? Why didn't I get to be her first?" The hot pricking of tears behind my eyes eased as the pools accumulated and spilled over the dams of my lids.

"Because Ron, you gave your firsts to Lavender. And Hermione was hurting. I guess he helped her, Ron." Harry said flatly with very little compassion. I didn't deserve any and I knew it. I had given my firsts away. He pulled me up another flight of stairs and into the bedroom we shared when this was the headquarters for the Order. And, if I was honest with myself, the only reason I got together with Lavender was because Ginny goaded me into it. I was sick of being left out and Ginny reminded me that I was the only git who hadn't snogged anyone. Lavender had fancied me for a while and I knew she'd be up for it so I thought I'd give it a go. I didn't know it would push Hermione into Fred's arms. Dammit! I knew this was my fault—all of it was my own fucking fault. She had kissed Krum before Fred, though.

"But she kissed Krum before me, too." I whined grasping for one last straw that this wasn't my fault. I fell back into the bed as Harry took my shoe off.

"Yeah, because you waited too long to ask her to the Yule Ball. She waited for you to ask her for weeks. Quit taking her for granted and quit being a great, bloody prat." I could always count on Harry to be honest, even when it hurt. He took off my other shoe and let it drop to the floor with a clunk. My feet, like all my excuses, reeked.

"I do always take her for granted, don't I?" And then my body began sobbing without my permission. I don't remember much else from that night. I remembered crying to Harry that Fred was gone and feeling guilty that I hated him for shagging my girlfriend. But that morphed into how much I missed my brother even if he took the mickey out of me the majority of the time that he was alive.

I don't know how much longer I blathered on to Harry before I finally fell asleep or how long I slept before I woke with my mouth as dry as a desert and tasting like my rank foot. I looked over at the night stand and Harry had placed a glass of water there for me. He really was a great friend. I chugged the water and fell back into the pillow and sleep. I dreamed this time.

The dream was an blend of scenes from the Battle of Hogwarts mixed with my fears that Hermione wouldn't make it out alive. The dream reminded me why I chose the middle of the battle for our first kiss. I had known that if I waited, I might never have the chance; and I never wanted that to be a regret I had if I lived through the battle and she didn't. It was one of those realistic dreams had on the edge of consciousness.

The memory of the night after Fred's funeral played behind my lids unaltered as well. Hermione and I had only kissed a few more times after the war and they were short and sweet. It didn't seem appropriate for anything more. She crawled into my bed that night and cried herself to sleep. I had cried with her, both of us finding comfort for our combined grief in each other's arms. When mum found us the next morning she didn't say a word—her own eyes red rimmed and puffy. Whatever part of my mind that was aware of my dream suddenly understood Hermione's inconsolable grief that night. She had loved Fred in a way no one else had. And Fred had been unafraid to show her how he felt about her—and she had lost him. It left me wondering why I couldn't be more like Fred. I needed to be more like Fred.

The last dream that I remembered, and the one that woke me up, was the memory of the time we almost made love. The whole family was at the Burrow helping with the rebuild and Hermione and I snuck off in the early evening for a picnic. It was about three weeks after Fred's funeral and I remembered being intoxicated by her scent. I could almost smell it in my dream.

"And the look on her face when they exited the Great Hall on their broomsticks!" Hermione snorted and I laughed along with her as we tried to cling to the great memories that the infamous Weasley twins provided for a whole generation of Hogwarts students. "If I had a Pensieve, I'd bottle that memory and watch it over and over again." Our laughter calmed a little and she looked serious. I knew she wanted me to kiss her so I leaned in and ran my nose along her neck. She shuddered at the contact and whispered my name.

We both lay on our sides facing each other and I placed my hand on her hip while I nuzzled her neck. She sighed so I knew I was doing okay and my lips used her jaw line as a path as they kissed their way to her lips. Her hand found its way to the back of my neck and she pulled me closer and I rolled on top of her kissing her deeply. My mind let me relive the memory of her hands pulling my shirt over my head, momentarily breaking our lips. Her fingers explored the little definition I had developed during quidditch practices helping Ginny train while my fingers mirrored hers as she showed me what she wanted and what was permissible. The only difference between the dream and reality was, when I finally settled between her legs,which she willingly parted for me, and began a rhythmic motion that her sighs indicated was pleasurable, dreamland Hermione said, "That's not how Fred does it." It made the actual situation sting even more because in reality she stopped us soon after telling me she wasn't quite ready for more. I now knew why she wasn't ready.

I woke with an aching heart and a pounding head. I knew mum would have some potion to help my head, but I knew that I needed to talk to Hermione to help my heart. I felt every ounce of love for her today that I did yesterday, before she told me. I needed her to know that. I just needed some time to process this. The unclear memory of Harry telling me to quit taking Hermione for granted seeped through my mild hangover. I had to get over there, but I had to shower first. I was going to be a new Ronald Weasley and that began with looking like someone who gave a damn.

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**So? Drunk Ron? Kreacher fetching Ginny for Harry? Guilty repentant Ron? Give me your thoughts, people. **

**Y'all made my week with all the responses from last chapter! Help me have another good week with just as much (if not more) love. **


	3. Chapter 3--False Secrets

**Author's Note:**

**Wow. I know I said I was open for reviews, but many of you are leaving some pretty terse and inflammatory comments and on a guest account. If you're going to get mad at the characters that I'm creating in a FAN FICTION (where I have the freedom to change what I see fit), then at least have the courage to do it under your account name. Then I can ask clarifying questions and possibly respond. A few of you made good points; too bad I couldn't follow up on them.**

**First of all many of your concerns will be addressed in upcoming chapters. They're already written and sent to people to look over. You will find out when their relationship started. I change _some_ cannon to make it work-not much, but I understand that concern. I****f any of you cared to read the Author's note on chapter one, I stated that I would follow canon "as much as possible." ****Hermione goes to the Burrow for Christmas holidays instead of with her parents in her 6th year. Be patient. **

**I need you people to remember that this is FAN FICTION. I'm exploring something NEW. Can you let go of some of the details and try to enjoy a story about two young adults who spent their adolescence fighting dark powers and now have to learn how to navigate through stupid things they did (or didn't) do in their youth.**

**Also, those of you have are stuck on these "rules" of who can date whom and what is acceptable when dating friends/family-I feel sorry for you. Some of this comes from my own personal experience (or people I know) and I find some narrow-minded views a little pitiable. Love can conquer all feelings including jealously, hurt, and betrayal. If yours can't then maybe you need to examine that. I've seen it and experienced it. Maybe my story can help open your eyes to it. Can we remember for a moment that this is FICTION. And can we pretend for a moment that something other than your thoughts and feelings exist out there in the world? **

**Guest who left me a list of 8 holes I dug for myself. I have copied it and saved it on my hard drive. Many of the holes will be filled in as the story progresses. You brought up one or two I hadn't considered which is why I welcome comments and reviews. However, it would have carried more weight if you could have found the shift key. I'm the first to admit that typos happen and I'm sure there are still some below despite my two betas (to whom I give thanks), but there was no capitalization at all. If you happen to be the co-author of will grayson/will grayson then I apologize and you are forgiven-otherwise, umm, no.**

**All that being said...these comments for the last chapter were hard on the ego. I asked for feedback, but I naïvely thought that it would be signed reviews with constructive criticism. I forget that some people lack tact. And you Harry Potter people, you're rather rabid. Just sayin'. Anyway, keep the reviews coming. Marina will help salvage my ego like she did this past week. It's a learning process for me, folks.**

**And Guest reviewer cautioning others about my devious plan to make this a Dramione...well you may just have to stay tuned and see. My favorites history does show that I enjoy Dramiones. I also have a sick fascination with Bellisles in the Twilight fandom. It's weird I admit. But, I've never seen Ron end up with Hermione-something Rowling herself has admitted to as of late. My story is a journey where Ron finds himself and becomes the man everyone has seen for years...and he never did. And check the silly summary of the story. Dang.**

**Sorry...that was long, but I was irritated. Here we go: **

* * *

No one would ever believe me if I told them who brought me the Pensieve.

Draco and I had kept our public relationship decidedly cold since the war's conclusion, not that we saw each other that often in public. A few days after Fred's funeral I had gone to Diagon Alley to pick up some things I had left at Fred and George's flat. On my way out of Diagon Alley I found Draco completely sloshed one day in the Leaky Cauldron, unable to stand—much less walk, so I brought him to my flat to sober up. I don't know what provoked me to do it, but it seemed to me that he needed a real friend but there were none to be had among his circle to look out for him. When he woke the next morning, he didn't say much, but he gave me a half smile and made to leave. I convinced him to stay long enough to eat something and he looked through my books while I made him breakfast. He smiled again when I placed a hangover potion and a plate laden with bangers and mash in front of him. He spent the rest of the day reading and asking me questions about different books and suggestions for other good reads. He returned several times over the next few weeks to return books and borrow new ones. He also left me little notes with his thoughts on what he had read. So, one day, and I'm still not sure why, I gave him a key so he could come borrow books whenever he wanted along with another suggested reading list. I didn't think it would be wise to tell Harry or Ron about this arrangement yet, though I was sure they'd all bump into each other sooner or later. I always put off thinking about that for another day.

When Draco stopped in while I was home we didn't say much to each other. I think he enjoyed just being with someone who didn't expect anything of him—or judge him. I was too exhausted to judge him; and he didn't require anything but a chair and books I had already read.

I rented my flat from a wizard landlord who had purchased a Muggle building. So I had many Muggle conveniences like electricity for a microwave and a television. However, I liked to do many things in true wizard fashion like cook and clean. Mrs. Weasley was teaching me how to cook using magic and I practiced on Draco when Ron wasn't around. I learned that he liked grilled ham and cheese, but I'd prepared it like it was served to me while I was on holiday in France.

"Seriously, Draco, as wealthy as your family is you never traveled abroad? You've never been to France?" I asked on one rare occasion we had a conversation. He had thanked me for the sandwich and asked me what it was.

"Yes, we traveled, but this is…" he paused and looked at me nervously, "Muggle food. My father would never have allowed me to frequent a place that served this. And it's too bad, because it is delicious." He said after taking a large bite. I smiled inwardly and was astounded that of all the people Draco could go see in all the places in the world, he chose my flat.

"Well, it's called a Croque Monsieur. If you like egg, I'll make you a Croque Madame next time you come." I walked out of the room and he called me back.

"You don't mind me coming here then?" His grey eyes pleaded for me to say that I didn't mind, but the rest of his face was impassive-almost cold. Draco was a great actor.

"Not at all," I assured him. "And I like finding your missives about books you've read."

"Thank you, Hermione," he said in a gentle tone that sounded so foreign coming out of his mouth and it continued to soften my heart towards him. I also wasn't used to him calling me by my first name. He inhaled to say something else, and then thought better of it. I didn't see him for a few weeks after that, though he left evidence that he had been there.

The Penseive was one such evidence that he had visited. Next to it I found my well-worn, well-marked book of Shakespeare's sonnets on the table in my make-shift study with a note sticking out of Sonnet 30. I had dog-eared this page and marked it enough to be evident that it was one of my favorites.

_When to the sessions of sweet silent thought  
I summon up remembrance of things past,  
__I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,  
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:  
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,  
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,  
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,  
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:  
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,  
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er  
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,  
Which I new pay as if not paid before.  
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,  
All losses are restored and sorrows end._

Underneath the last lines of the Sonnet that bespoke my yearning to see the dearly departed again was Draco's elegant script:

_H— While we can't call back our precious friends, I can help you remember the good times you had. I know you have many memories that might be briefly restored to end your sorrow, even if only momentarily. Please accept this gift so that you may look upon those you've loved and remember. Being here pulls me from my woe, allow me to return the favor. –D_

I didn't know if Draco had an extra Pensieve just lying around Malfoy Manor or if he purchased this one specifically for me. The note made it clear that he thought I could use some help from the past and I was touched by the thought he exerted. Whether it was old or newly purchased, it was an expensive gift and it showed that Draco valued my friendship, or at least my tolerance.

I'd used it a few times to review memories for the articles I was writing. But, I'd shied away from Draco's gift for fear that once I extracted a sentimental memory to revisit, I may never want to leave its stony artificial depths. I didn't want to wallow in the past and forget to live in the present. But, tonight, the pain of Ron's rejection was too much to bear. I knew that I deserved it. His anger was justified and it was the reason I put it off so long. It brought back so many bad memories that I decided that I needed to retreat to a time when I felt wanted and desired. I knew which memory I wanted to see. I wanted to feel the butterflies caused by uncertain desire. I wanted to revisit the day I realized that I wanted to kiss Fred Weasley; I wanted to kiss him because I knew he wanted to snog me.

My bare feet padded down the mahogany floor to my tiny study which was really the second bedroom. I placed my wand to my temple and muttered the spell that would extract the precious wispy strand. I didn't need a bottle to capture the memory because I was going to return it to my mind directly when I was finished. The pearly white vapor swirled in deep contrast to the beautiful onyx marble bowl and I leaned over and felt the familiar tumbling sensation and landed right in the Weasley's living room where the whole affair began during the Christmas holidays.

I saw myself sitting on the edge of the room reading. I was sulking in a corner having decided to change my plans at the last minute. I was supposed to go on holiday with my folks, being particularly angry at Ron, but they won a free trip to Greece at the last minute. I figured going to the Burrow would be better than staying at Hogwarts alone. I was right at the time.

_"Fred!" I watched myself exclaim at the handsome ginger who had just written a suggestive phrase in ancient runes. I had been reading all evening and he'd stayed up, waiting for me after everyone, including Ginny, Ron, and Harry, had gone to bed. He sat with George most of the evening and I remembered the look he flashed George when George suggested they go home. It seemed to say, "Get lost, I'm working here!" So, George left. Fred always seemed to know when I needed to talk while we were at school. And, for some reason, I always opened up to him on those few occasions. It was something the way he looked at me after telling him off during fifth year. During that holiday break he sought me out to talk and he seemed genuinely interested in what I was feeling and made time to listen. Everyone else seemed, well, preoccupied. _

_"You know you want to." Fred said as I read the message again and blushed. The glowing runes hung in the air as if it had been written on a chalk board and slowly faded as my glowing blush intensified. I stood up from the old puffy armchair where I'd been reading to swipe at the vanishing runes. He seemed to take pleasure in my blush._

_"I don't even want to know what you were researching in order to find the rune for 'snog' you dirty pervert." Memory Hermione laughed at Fred and I could feel the same butterflies in my stomach that I felt the first time this happened. Because, even though most people wouldn't believe it of Hermione Granger, I did want to snog. I wanted to be wanted like any other teenage girl I'd heard the girls bragging in the dormitory or bathrooms. I wanted to feel the anticipation right before the kiss happened and I wanted to feel the need they described as boys pushed boundaries. Well, I felt the need, I just never had a boy—that I desired—push the boundaries. Fred Weasley had no boundaries. And when I looked in Fred's eyes I knew that he wanted to snog me. Hermione Granger._

_And I wanted to let him._

Watching the memory from this vantage point had almost the same effect on my body as the original experience. I didn't dare close my eyes as I watched myself move towards Fred. He was almost a foot taller than me, lean and muscular. I didn't know myself around him and I found that very exciting. He made me forget about being the uptight, rule-following, always-studying Hermione Granger. I liked this unfamiliar side of me and I liked giving up the stodgy Hermione for just a little while. Watching from the Pensieve, I could relive it all again.

_"It took some digging," Fred said taking another step closer to me. "What I want to know," Fred's hand found my shoulder when I was close enough for him to reach out and touch me, "is how you knew what the ancient rune for snog was." His other hand tried to trap a rebellious curl behind my ear, but then moved to stroke my cheek when it refused to obey._

_"Well, I was trying to find a way to curse Ron one day when I saw a love bite Lavender gave him." I said absently as all my attention was focused on his thumb that brushed across my lips. His thumb was warm as was his smile. He brought his nose close to mine and nudged me with his. And suddenly I didn't want to think of Ron anymore._

_"Kisses should never be a curse," Fred said still pulling me closer at an agonizingly slow speed. "They are a magic all of their own if done correctly." His hand dropped to my waist and I could feel his breath on my cheek._

_"I don't think I've experienced that magic," I said peering up into the emeralds of his eyes. I breathed in and then closed my eyes. I couldn't believe that I, Hermione Know-it-all Granger, enforcer of all school rules and wizarding laws, was standing in the arms of Fred Anything-goes Weasley waiting to be kissed in the living room of the Burrow._

_And, I was gagging for it._

_"You're in luck, Miss Granger," Fred declared. "I happened to have scored an 'O' on my snogging NEWTs and I currently looking for prospective pupils to tutor." His lips brushed mine lightly, requesting further permission. My heart pounded and my lips smiled against his at his explanation. It showed how well he knew me and I admired the clever way he was attempting to get into my knickers. I hoped he wanted to get into my knickers. I liked that his breaths came as quickly as mine._

_"Do you take on many pupils?" I asked in a breathy voice I didn't quite recognize._

_"Not in a long, long time." He kissed me lightly again. "I haven't seen many who showed much promise until now. Are you up for it?" His hand on my shoulder wrapped itself around the back of my neck and my arms wound around his waist. I took the initiative this time and mimicked the sweet kiss he had used as a demonstration._

_"You know how I feel about practice leading to perfection," I mumbled into his mouth. He kissed me again a little harder and when he broke away I groaned into the void. "Where'd you go? I don't feel proficient, yet!" I cried. He grinned at my earnestness._

_"You are a very promising pupil," he breathed. "You've got the hang of this."_

_"Nevertheless, Constant vigilance!" I chided and wrapped my arms around his neck drawing my body against his. _

_"Oh, 'Mione!" he groaned and his lips pressed hard against mine. He pulled me towards the sofa by the fire where we continued rudimentary studies on the art of kissing. I didn't realize I had so much to learn as Fred swiped my bottom lip with his tongue and I was so surprised I inhaled sharply, parting my lips slightly. Fred took that opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth and beg mine for an audience. We had a wonderful conversation in a language I yearned to be fluent in. Fred obviously had the gift of tongues and he was a great teacher; further study with him was absolutely necessary._

_I also discovered that the spot under my jaw, almost where my jawbone rounds off under my ear, if licked and sucked, could make me gasp which made Fred chuckle. He tried it several times with the same result each time. More study was required to find such a spot on him that provided the same results. He seemed to enjoy the exploration expedition._

I sat there watching my memory of the pair of us trying different things to give the other pleasure. I watched myself and thought about how I let Fred see a side of me that I'd kept hidden from everyone else. He liked that side of me, too. And I liked the side, I guessed, he revealed to me that few people were privy to.

_"Hermione?" he asked at one point and I was pulled back from my thoughts to the memory playing out before me._

_"Mmm?" I hummed while leaving a trail of kisses across his Adam's apple._

_"What are you thinking about?" His hands ran up my back, under my shirt, heating the skin in its wake._

_"How if this were a real NEWT I'd actually want to fail so you would be forced to continue tutorials," I murmured through my panting. My heart was racing and I wanted his hands to touch me everywhere._

_"That would be dishonest of you, Miss Granger," Fred said shocked. "I would have to report you!" He pulled back and looked at me in mock horror and surprise._

_"No one would believe you if you did." He ran his nose along the length of mine._

_"I believe you're right," he said and a shadow crossed his face. I quietly asked what he was thinking. "I fancy you and I have for a while." My heart leapt in my chest and my stomach dropped to the floor. "You are smart and funny, and when you let your guard down, a freaking riot to be with. But…"_

_I remembered feeling mortified by his "but" and wondering if I was going to regret letting my guard down. But I had already discovered how deeply Fred—well both of the twins—loved their family and how much they worried about their feelings and wellbeing._

_"But?" I forced out through my fear._

_"But, I'm worried what this would do to Ron—if and when he finds out. He fancies you, too, but he's just too stupid to do anything about it. While the Wally is getting off with that slag, I know he'd be hurt if he knew I pulled you. Would you mind if we kept this between us? I know that makes this seem tawdry, but I really don't want to hurt the little wanker," Fred explained running his nose up the length of my neck. I was having a hard time concentrating._

_"Umm…" I didn't know what to say. Fred Weasley fancied me and had for a while. He had the same concern I did and it made me like him even more. "…I think that would be fine. I feel the same way. But…" I was petrified to ask the next thing on my mind, but I knew it would drive me crazy if our relationship was ambiguous as the one I had with Ron, "is this going to be a one-time thing?" I looked down at my lap where my hands were twisting nervously._

_"Not if I have anything to say about it." He leaned in and kissed me again. I moaned my pleasure at his answer and he gently leant me back so we were supine on the sofa. "We have practical applications to practice."_

I was glad I chose this memory to visit. I didn't feel I had been disloyal to Ron and neither had Fred. We were two people, with a mutual attraction, who felt it was time to allow someone else to see a different side of ourselves. Ron had chosen a different direction, for whatever reason, and I was done ruing his choice. Fred Weasley had fancied me and I liked who I was when I was with him. So why did I still feel badly about it?

I didn't like that Fred was the only person I had allowed to see this side of me and figured that I needed to think about that for a while. Why didn't I let Ron see the side that let go a little? Why did I feel like I had to control everyone and everything around me-except Fred?

The memory ended and the images swirled around me and I felt the withdrawal from the Pensieve pulling me higher and higher and higher. I found myself back in my little study and a smiling Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway. I gathered the swirling smoke into a thought wisp with my wand and willed it back in mind with a non-verbal spell.

"I'm glad you found my gift useful," Draco said quietly in a very satisfied voice. "I'm sorry it's so late. I was having a rather grim evening and I came here instead of going to the Leaky Cauldron. I'll go if you're busy." His face was sad and this quiet, brooding Draco intrigued me.

"No, not at all. I've had a rough evening, as well." I pulled out my wand and conjured up a squashy little bed for the study. "You're more than welcome to stay."

"Why?" He asked and his question took me off guard. Seeing my confusion he worked to find the words to explain. "Why do you let me come here? Why did you help me that night? I have been nothing but awful to you our whole lives. What made you decide to help me when all I have earned, at best, is detached disdain?"

"Honestly, I don't know." And I didn't. So, I tried to reason it out by talking. This was how Harry, Ron, and I figured everything out. It might work here as well.

"When I saw you that night at the Leaky Cauldron, completely alone, drunk, and helpless, I realized that you were just a product of the circumstances to which you were born. Your father, and please don't take this the wrong way," I paused a moment and he nodded, "was more concerned with status and power than anything else and your whole life and your education was geared toward gaining and maintaining those things." He nodded his head at my assessment though the steel of his eyes hardened and muscle flexed in his cheek. "Your mother is the reason that motivated me to apparate, with you, here. Your mother's love for you is what saved Harry and that needed to be repaid. Your family was an integral part to the defeat of Voldemort and it was time you knew that someone recognized that." Tears swelled in his steely grey eyes transforming them to pools of mercury and his bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. Though, his face remained dry.

"Now, you tell me," I continued, "why do you keep coming back?" It was something that perplexed me.

"Because you let me," he croaked. "You have been the victim to the darkest side of my personality, yet you helped me anyway. When I'm with you, I feel like there is hope for me."

"Draco, of course there's hope for you. Dumbledore believed it and so did Snape. Your mother believes it, and so do I." He sniffled, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry about…" he searched for words, "well, for everything. I don't buy into the whole pureblood/mudblood thing anymore. The truth is I was more jealous than anything. I want to learn now, Hermione. I want to learn about Muggles which is why I come here to get more books. They're just the same as us wizards." His voice took on an air of wonder and I had to smile at his revelation.

"Draco, you're growing on me." I said it because it was true. I liked him. His notes he left about the books he'd read were very telling about how his mind worked and the things he was learning. They weren't very long, but they were deep and thoughtful. His mind was wide open now and he was willing to fill it.

"Granger, the feeling is mutual." He smirked at me and there was part of the Malfoy I knew. He was a broken man who was rebuilding himself with the useful materials he salvaged and new and improved materials for which he diligently searched. "Thank you again."

"Thank you for the Pensieve. I really did need it tonight." I looked up trying to keep the tear from escaping.

"I thought you could use it for your articles in the Daily Prophet. Isn't it enlightening watching your memories as a spectator?" he asked, subtly changing the subject. "I've gained so much insight to myself by watching my memories even if they are still skewed by my bias and prejudices. Watching situations play out instead of being in them is a completely surreal, but illuminating experience."

"I think you're right. Yet I can still capture the feelings I had while analyzing them at the same time," I added.

"I thought you'd appreciate that," Draco said. "I hope you don't mind, but I've come here to use it a few times."

"I don't mind. Where'd you get it anyway? It's beautiful." I ran my hand along the smooth ebony marble with golden etched runes.

"Pensieves are rare and typically handed down through families. Both my mother and father each inherited one and I couldn't let this one fall into Bella's hands. So I hid it from her even before my mind began changing. After the battle and we were sorting through the rubble of our house, I remembered I had hidden it in our summer cottage. When I thought about what I wanted to do with it, I thought you would put it to good use."

"Draco, it's too much," I whispered. "I can't possibly accept a family heirloom."

"Then make use of it for a while and give it back later. Consider it a loan. But, I would like some good thoughts and memories swirling in its depths for a while." His small smile convinced me.

"Okay," I agreed. "It's a loan. And you may come use it whenever you wish." There was a slight lull in the conversation. This was the most we had talked in all the weeks he had been coming here and I don't think either of us knew how to end it. I cleared my throat.

"Well, I should get to bed. As always, make yourself at home." And I left him in the study.

* * *

The next morning I found that Draco and I were quite compatible in the mornings. We both liked to drink our tea in the quiet of the morning and read various things. I read the Daily Prophet and he read my favorite Jane Austen book _Sense and Sensibility_. I thought it would soon be time to introduce him to some American authors.

It was late morning and I was washing up the breakfast dishes when I heard the front door open and close. I went to grab a dish towel to dry my hands when I heard Ron's startled voice. He had come after all and my heart jumped. His tone soon turned to cold anger.

"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron roared. I went to the short hallway to try to explain when Ron's icy blue eyes found mine. He looked great. He was wearing a fitted jumper that showed his newly acquired manly physique and pair of trousers that hugged in all the right places. His hair was neatly trimmed and the ginger fuzz that had accumulated on his chin was freshly shaved. He smelled good, too. I would have jumped into his arms if the next sentence wouldn't have spilled from his lips and chilled my heart.

"So now you're fucking Malfoy, too? That's just great." My face, which had been in an amused expression ready to explain the presence of my new friend, crumbled as the pain of his words knocked the wind from me and the vacuum left in my chest cavity collapsed in on my drawn heart. I didn't know how to answer that and I couldn't find the strength to try. I turned on the spot and disapparated.

* * *

**A/N: Does that clear up some of it? Remember there are more chapters.**

**True Story: M****y mom got mad at the end of Fellowship of the Ring when I forced her to go see it on Christmas day many years ago, "That's it?" she bellowed in the quiet theater as the credits began to roll.  
"Mom, there are two more movies to go; that's only 1/3 of the story," I whispered in a rush.  
"Oh. When do they come out?" she asked, interested.  
"Next year, and the year after," I replied. **

**Y****ou won't have to wait as long as my mom did. (Not that I'm a Tolkein or even a Rowling...I just want to learn how to improve my writing.)**


	4. Chapter 4--Truth or Facade?

**A/N: If you don't like my story, please don't read it. We're four chapters in, now and you should be able to tell. I have taken the criticism of some people and made some changes that actually change the tone. Some of you are right, I didn't make Ron angry enough. I made him like Hermione would want to see him and not how he would actually react. Thank you for that input.**

**However, don't tell me what my story "should" be. I've gotten numerous reviews telling me that my story "should be this" or "should be that". Write your own story if you don't like mine. I like suggestions. Like I said, I've taken some of them to heart. I've copied some of them and saved them onto my computer. But I'm going to finish this. If it fails, it'll be a life lesson. I've also changed the rating to M. I think that will weed out some of the haters and get me to a different audience. **

**Guest who posted again who left me the list of 8: I hope you're still reading. I am listening to you. **

**To my betas: I've changed this quite a bit since you two have seen it. The rest of you, if there are mistakes, I apologize. I didn't run it past my betas again. They are both extremely busy right now and I thank them for the time and effort they have given me. **

**I can't believe I'm about to type this, but: Let me hear from you.**

* * *

"What the bloody hell was that, Weasley?" Malfoy asked me.

So many thoughts went through my mind as I stood there looking at the man who had caused Harry, Hermione, and me so much trouble in the past. Harry could never give me a good answer as to why he saved Malfoy in the Room of Requirement during the battle. Hermione was insistent that Harry's mercy was repaid by Malfoy's mother in the forest. The fact that all the Malfoys remained in the castle as the war's conclusion, however uncomfortable they looked, was proof enough to Hermione that there was a "possibility for change." She insisted that everyone needed to believe in a person's ability to change.

I knew that Harry had seen Malfoy from time to time and I suspected it had to do with work. He wouldn't talk much about it and he only mentioned after he let it slip one day. Harry, too, maintained that Malfoy was very different, though he never insisted that I think or feel any differently about him. This was all very well covered territory between us. The three of us had gotten into a number of rows over their growing tolerance of the blonde pain-in-the-ass. I was adamant that he was still a Slytherin snake-in-the-grass who would sink his fangs in to anyone given the best opportunity.

"I came to make up with my girlfriend and I find her in her apartment with…" I knew I sounded like a nutter, but I just couldn't stop, "with…you!"

"What do you think we were doing?" Malfoy asked me with that shit-eating grin on his face. Did he really want me to say it out loud? Couldn't he just take the inference? I knew what had been going on here. I think. Wasn't it obvious? It was. Maybe? Could Hermione sleep with Malfoy? She'd slept with Fred. I never would have expected that. Obviously there was something monumentally wrong with my perception of people I loved. But, Fred was at least a good guy-on the right side and all. Or so I thought.

"Are you going to make me say it?" I asked, my voice taking on the hysterical pitch my brothers teased me mercilessly about.

"Well, Weasley, I'm not quite sure what 'it' is, so yes. I am going to make you say 'it.'" Why was he always so fucking cheeky? He still had that same smug smile that showed he thought he was better than the rest of the world. It made me want to punch him in his perfectly straight nose. Except it wasn't perfectly straight anymore. Huh.

"You're here to… . " I just couldn't finish the sentence. The image of Hermione's face as I accused her of fucking him was sheer and utter pain. I had hurt her again. I didn't say anything else. I knew she hadn't slept with him, but it didn't explain why he was in her house. I decided I had already fucked up enough and I needed to control my temper enough to get some answers instead of my assumptions. Hermione was right people can change. I was going to change. But I'll be damned if I was going to do it for her. I was just sick and tired of having to back-pedal all the damn time.

"So you've finally deduced that I am not here to nick Miss Granger's heart," he smirked again, "or her virtue," he chuckled. Whatever. I knew who had already nicked that.

"Then why are you here?" I asked trying to sound composed. My voice didn't squeak at least. The bastard just laughed at me-again. I couldn't believe it.

"And I thought I had issues." Draco walked past me into _my_ girlfriend's kitchen like he owned the damn place. I stuck my head into her study and saw a little bed. Fucking hell. I was an ass. If they had slept together, then she wouldn't have conjured the spare bed. I'd know. I'd slept on it enough. My breaths were coming fast and I still couldn't fathom why Draco Malfoy would be here in Hermione's flat. But I also knew he wouldn't tell me a thing if I kept acting like a wanker. I got my breathing under control and walked down the hallway.

I sulked to the kitchen where Malfoy was finishing up the dishes; it looked like he had eaten here. I fell into a chair thinking about questions to make small talk to distract myself until I got my bearings.

"So, how've you been, Malfoy?" I asked trying to seem casual, "You're looking good." I hoped he was buying this shite. His clothes still looked like they were the tailored sort the ultra-posh wore, though he looked a little rumpled. So he had slept in his clothes. Another sign that I was an ass.

"Shows how much you know," he turned towards me, slowly and surveyed me. For the first time I didn't feel the cold disdain that oozed from the pores of all Malfoys; he was sizing me up. "You, however, do look nice and rather dapper. If you came to schmooze your woman, you've mucked it right up."

"Don't you think I know that?" I asked, my voice squeaking. Damn! I hated that it did that in front of him. I took another deep breath. "I mucked it up last night and I was coming over here to sort it out. Now I don't know where's she's gone." I shook my head and dropped it into my hands. This was too much to process. Hermione had dropped too much into my lap. I needed to think and figure all this shit out. I needed to find her to tell her so.

"Well, I wish I could help you, but I don't know where she'd go, either," Malfoy said putting the freshly washed dishes in the cupboards. I didn't know whether or not to believe him because he was just a little too comfortable here. He put the kettle on and then took out two tea cups and matching saucers. He placed them on the table, one in front of me.

"Are you here to pick up my mess and take her for yourself?" I asked point blank. Again, he laughed at me. His laugh was different, too. It was no longer a snide, arrogant snigger, but a low mirthful chuckle. He seemed deeply amused.

"While I can _finally_ appreciate the attraction she is not for me and I am definitely not for her. I am attracted to her for other, non-sexual reasons," he stated firmly and I was taken aback by his humility and his candor. My shock must have registered on my face because he then said in his very familiar drawl, "Close your mouth, Weasley, or you'll catch flies." Man he knew how to get under my skin.

"Then why are you here?" I asked for what seemed like the eight hundredth time. I was about at the end of my patience.

"That's really not something I care to discuss with you, and I'd appreciate your discretion about me being here all together." Like anyone'd believe that Draco Malfoy hung out in Hermione Granger's flat. "But, I will tell you that Hermione has helped me a great deal just by allowing me to use her home as an escape from my…er…current situation in life." I must have looked completely lost. "I come here to escape, Weasley. I read. She feeds me sometimes. Often times I come when I know she won't be here so I'm not a burden to her and become an unwelcome house guest," he explained.

This was not the Draco Malfoy I had known my entire life. This was not the pureblood hater of Mudbloods and self-appointed leader of the anti-Granger Squad. I didn't know what to think of this guy. I couldn't just let go of everything he had done to me, my family, to Muggles and Muggle-borns in general. How could I just let all that go?

"So you just use her flat to come up for air? And she lets you?" I asked trying to make sense of it. I couldn't just trust him not after everything that had happened. The kettle's shrill whistle commanded his attention and he poured the boiling water into the tea pot to steep. He placed fat purple pot on the table between us. Domestic Malfoy? Didn't he have a house elf to do that stuff?

"She is a very gracious hostess and quite a good cook, too," Malfoy lauded and sat in the chair across from me. Hermione kept milk and honey on the table and we were both quiet as we prepared our tea.

"So what'd you do to warrant the ultimate make over," he gestured to specify he meant my appearance, "and the impromptu visit to her flat?" he asked as he stirred his tea with a touch of honey and no milk. I was going to let him taste the tea first.

"I went a bit barmy when she told me about a relationship I didn't know about. Then, I left her here alone." Malfoy nodded his head and I could see a connection was made in his mind.

"She mentioned she'd had a tough evening." It was all he said and he sipped his tea. Great, so now he knows my business, too. Fuck.

"Did she invite you over?" I asked unsuccessfully keeping the jealousy out of my voice.

"No. I just turned up." His eyes flashed to mine and then back at his cup. "I had a rough night as well and this was better than my normal alternative," he admitted. Who was this Malfoy? I pretended to sip my tea.

"Yeah, I ended up at Harry's where I drank half a bottle of his fire whiskey." Malfoy chuckled and pulled a small silver flask from the inside pocket of his robes.

This was not the son-of-a-bitch that I'd known all my life. Was he that good of an actor? Was Hermione right, could people change that much? Was he that good at anything? It appeared that he drank heavily so I though maybe he could answer my question. So I posed the question that had drifted through my inebriated mind last night.

"Why do people drink to be numb? That didn't work for me. I felt everything," I said, shuddering at the memory, "like it was amplified even."

"Then you didn't drink enough," Malfoy smirked.

"And then," I continued on, "I couldn't shut up. Poor Harry. And he wasn't very sympathetic. The wanker," I blathered. I didn't know why I was telling all of this to Malfoy but, again, I couldn't shut up. "Why would you go through all that to get to numb? There's got to be an easier way." And that's when it occurred to me—the reason that Malfoy comes here. Being here helps him escape whatever it is that's making his life difficult. Malfoy just nodded at me.

"That's why you turned up here," I concluded. "What is it about her?" It was a spoken thought and I didn't expect an answer, but he gave me one anyway.

"She sees the things we conceal and tries to praise the good in spite of the bad." And there Draco had summed up the last seven years of my life as well as the entirety of my relationship with and yearning for Hermione. I was angry at her. She slept with my brother. That was going to take sometime to get over if I ever could. But Malfoy had a point about being around her. She was brutally honest and she had high standards, but she always praised what was good. You knew her compliments had meaning and her high standards made people want to meet them. She was a driving force for me and I wanted her in my life. I just had to figure out how I wanted her in my life. Would she want me?

"Merlin, what did I do?" I groaned and thumped my head on the table. "How do I fix this?" I heard Malfoy's chuckle again.

"You go and tell her what a stupid git you were for even assuming she would have any sort of physical intimacy with me, and explain that you're working on your very deep-seeded insecurities," he stated plainly and matter-of-factly.

"I don't think I get another chance," I said, my head still on the table.

"Ronald Weasley, if that woman can forgive me for everything I did and said to her, then you can be forgiven for being an insecure arse. You and I suffer from the same ailment, interestingly enough."

Oh my fairy pixies, he was right. I'd spent years, _years_, hating this bloke and here he was summing up my life in small concise statements. I just stared at him. It was my turn to reevaluate him. I looked over his blonde hair, which he no longer wore slicked back. It was still neatly styled, but it was loose and contemporary. His eyes were still an ominous grey, but they were no longer stone cold. There was depth there that only deep sorrow could bring. His face had filled out and his shoulders broadened, he was gaining his man weight. I wondered what he did to keep fit.

"What happened to you, Malfoy?" I grinned a little so he knew I didn't mean any offense. I didn't know what to make of him. I didn't trust him, but a part of me wanted to. I'd have to talk to Hermione and ask why she trusted him. She'd been right all along about Snape, even after he killed Dumbledore she had a hard time believing it-another conversation that caused numerous arguments, but Harry was on my side for those. That was why I tended to trust her judgment more than my own. That thought brought a whole new wave of guilt for my behavior this morning.

"I survived a war where I spent the majority of the time on the wrong side," he paused, but I could tell something was on the tip of his tongue. "There are certain things that can never be…unseen," he shuddered at some haunting memory, "or undone. It changes a person." I just nodded. He seemed so sincere. "I'm sorry about your brother. I always liked Fred. I hope George is okay."

I remembered how forgiving my brothers could be. I guessed they had to be since they inflicted the most pain and hoped we'd forgive them. But when Percy finally came to his senses and joined the right side, all they wanted from him was an admission that he was wrong. And they were good. I hoped I could be like that. Here I had an opportunity to try. Take just a little step.

"He's coping. He spends more time at the Burrow than their—err-his flat over the shop, but I think mum needs that, too," I said.

A popping sound caught our attention from the direction of the refrigerator. Malfoy opened it just in time to see a covered dish disappear. Malfoy smiled.

"I guess it's time for lunch and wherever she is, she's hungry," he remarked. I knew what was in that dish so I knew where she probably ended up.

"Gamp's Law," I recited remembering her extensive lectures on the subject. "That was a shepherd's pie and it's Harry's favorite. She probably went to his place." I sighed in relief because, as stupidly as I acted this morning, I knew Harry would try to help me as much as he could. He'd be honest, but he was still my best mate.

"You should follow her," Malfoy said. "All women want to be followed."

"You think?" Something told me he was right. "I think I should let Harry calm her down a bit. He's good at that." I didn't quite know what to say then, because I knew I needed to wait a bit. So I went for more small talk. "How have you been keeping busy?" Malfoy considered me for a few moments before he answered.

"Cleaning up Malfoy Manor consumes most of my time. There was considerable damage caused by its use by the Dark…" Malfoy stopped himself, "…by Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. They held little regard our family's heirlooms. " I liked that he no longer ascribed the term "Lord" to Voldemort. "But, I guess they treated our things with the same regard my family and I have given to others we deemed lower than ourselves." He hesitated again, lost in thought, then continued, "We have to develop new security wards and charms and that takes time and practice."

"Rebuilding the Burrow, I guess, wasn't that hard. There was some damage, but it only took a few days to fix some minor things." I admitted. Our house wasn't nearly as grand as Malfoy Manor, but it was beloved and home. I think if my place had as much history as Malfoys, I would have been much more upset.

"But we don't have to rebuild our family," Malfoy almost whispered, suddenly overcome with some emotion I couldn't quite discern. "My family came out unscathed and actually we learned quite a bit that will eventually make us better people—if my senseless father would let it sink in."

Malfoy was right and again he took me off guard. We had lost Fred and I'd give up the Burrow in a heartbeat to have him back even if only for George's sake. The vision of Fred and Hermione together, that had haunted my thoughts, flashed through my mind again. And it struck me that Hermione was suffering a great loss as well. If she truly loved him, and I had no doubt that she did, she was carrying an untold sorrow and she may have just needed me to know so I could help her grieve. My family, we all had each other. Hermione hadn't told anyone about Fred, so she was carrying a great load all alone. Damn it, if I wasn't a prat. Yeah, it hurt that Hermione had a relationship with Fred, but I still loved her and I didn't want to cause any more pain.

"You okay?" Malfoy asked concerned.

"No. I'm an idiot. She's been grieving all alone. She lost Fred, too. Why do I have to muck things up before I get it? Why can't I just do the right thing first?" I asked absentmindedly revisiting my earlier thoughts about learning to control myself so I didn't have to back pedal so much. I had to follow her to back pedal again. Even though I had every right to be angry and upset. Damn it.

"She being Hermione and the relationship she had, of which you were unaware, was…" Malfoy's shrewd mind had connected the dots. Malfoy's chuckle was sympathetic and didn't sound mocking in the least. "Oh, ho hoo! That's rough, mate. I don't think many men would have taken that very well." He shook his head. "Shit." I don't know why, but Malyfoy's swearing made me feel better. Like I wasn't stupid for being upset that Hermione boned my brother.

"Yeah, well. It wasn't just 'not taking it well', you saw what happened."

"I don't know how you fix that, Weasley. Do you want to talk to her though? This morning's assumption was a bit rough," he reminded.

"Yeah. I have to apologize for that." I said. I didn't know what else I would say to her, though. I wasn't ready to forgive her for Fred. I didn't have it in me. Not yet. I didn't know if ever.

Take me with you and I'll keep Potter out of your hair. I have to talk to him anyway," Malfoy offered.

Alarm whistles went off in my mind. What if this was all some ruse for the Death Eaters to take down the members of the Order when we least expected it? What if Malfoy was a spy sent to find Harry? My face must have betrayed what I was thinking because he added, "I've been there before and I'll apparate there myself to show you if you need proof that I can be trusted." I knew the Fidelius Charm had been performed anew at Grimmauld Place, and the only way he'd know how to get there is if Harry had taken him before.

"Alright, Malfoy, you go first and I'll see you there," I said, not really revealing whether not I trusted him. Because I didn't. With a pop he was gone and with a pop I was back by his side at number 12, Grimmauld Place.


	5. Chapter 5--Deeper than perception

**A/N: Hermione's going to realize some things here. Hang tight. Thanks to MarinaNamaste and Estrunk for their diligent work during a very busy time. You should check out their stories if you're looking for a good read.**

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"Hermione?" he asked, concerned. "Are you okay?" He placed his cup back on the table, reached behind him for a tea towel, and absently dabbed at his wet boxer shorts.

"No." And the waterworks began. I was not a pretty crier and in the few short seconds it took to apparate from my home to Harry's kitchen I was blotchy, covered in snot, and my body was wracked with sobs. Before I knew it I was supported by Harry's strong arms as he tried his hardest to calm me with soothing shushes and pats on the back.

I vaguely remember being lifted and carried to the sitting room where Harry sat and rocked me until my sobs slowed and the throbbing pain in my heart and head, triggered by Ron's hateful accusation, ebbed enough for me to think clearly. He didn't say anything, he just held me and rocked me until the sobs turned to hiccups and I was finally able to dry my eyes.

"Harry, why aren't you wearing any trousers?" I asked, looking down at his Chudley Cannon's boxer shorts. "It's almost noon!" I was just trying to put my mind on something other than Ron. It didn't work.

"Well, when Ron turned up here last night, he drank half a bottle of fire whiskey and I had to tend to his blubbering emotional ass. He surprised me in my boxers, too. Now I have a feeling that I'm going to have to kick his ass for turning you into a blubbering mess for being an ass." He hugged me closer. "I don't mind you, though. You smell better." It was a joke we'd cultivated all those months searching for Horcruxes. After Ron left us, Harry and I got into the habit of spooning just for the closeness. So, sitting here on Harry's lap was comforting and not awkward in the least. Though after Ron's assumption with Draco's mere presence in my house, I wondered how it would look to Ginny and Ron if one of them appeared and saw Harry in his boxers and me on his lap. I stood up and offered him my hand.

"Can I make you another cup of tea since I caused you to spill yours?" I asked. "While you go put on some trousers," I added with a small smile. He nodded and headed towards the stairs. I headed back towards the kitchen completely drained. I put the kettle on and sorted through the teas and decided on a nice lavender infusion and a spot of honey. I knew how Harry'd take it, so I just made his cup as well.

I was hungry, so I poked around the kitchen looking for some food. Harry truly was a bachelor and I thought that maybe I should reconsider his offer and move in with him, just so he could have some decent food once and a while. I had made a shepherd's pie back at my flat, so I summoned it here, heated it, and then engorged it to be enough to feed Harry and me. Again, our time together gave me certain familiarities with his habits so I could estimate how much to put on his plate. When Harry reentered the kitchen, a smile spread across his face when he saw the food on the table.

"I miss you so much, Hermione," he confessed as he sat and tucked into his pile of pie. We ate in silence for a while as my brain refused to think about the reason I was here in the first place. When Harry was mostly done with his plate, put his fork down and looked at me. "So, you're going to have to start with what happened last night so I can put his appearance at my door in perspective with your appearance in my kitchen." I kept my eyes on my plate not knowing how to bring up my relationship with Fred. He must have understood my hesitation, though. "I already know about Fred," he offered, "so start with that."

Believe or not, that made me feel better. "Well it started sixth year, during the Christmas holidays. Ron was balls-deep into Lavender and I was lonely and angry. Fred and I had been friends for a while and flirty when no one else was around. One night, after you all went to bed, one thing led to another and we kind of became this secret couple. It's not like we could meet that often." I looked down at my plate, remembering the few stolen moments we had together. "Neither one of us wanted to hurt Ron, so we didn't tell anyone. Which also made it a lot easier to find alone time if Mrs. Weasley didn't think she had to keep us separated for moral reasons. We cooled things off around the wedding, because we didn't know what was going to happen." I looked back up at Harry. "He knew we were planning to leave."

"Well," Harry rubbed his stubbly chin, "that makes a lot of other things make sense."

"Like what?" I asked.

"He always seemed to understand you better during meetings with the Order. He had a knack of explaining your thought processes to others who thought that you were overthinking things. When Ron would moan about how much he fancied you, but you seemed indifferent, Fred would tell him that was his own damn fault and Fred seemed to be the only one who could get him to shut up." The mention of Ron's name made me hiccup and I could tell that Harry was worried that I'd start crying again.

"Hermione, this is hard on him. You know how he is," Harry hedged.

"I know," I replied just above whisper. "He's angry and I can't really blame him, though I've justified it in my mind..." I trailed off. Was it just a justification? I'd wanted to feel something for so long, it made perfect sense in my head. But looking at it from the outside, well, maybe it was...maybe it was cruel.

"Fred? The twins made his life hell, 'Mione. He already feels like a sidekick," he added.

"I know, but I can't help that!" I cried. "Ron has his own strengths and I wish he could just see them. I do, you do, hell, even Fred and George saw them. Why can't he?"

"Because they spent much of their time putting him down and playing practical jokes on him. They gave him acid pops and almost convinced him to make unbreakable vow which would have ended up killing him. He has some serious unresolved issues with is brothers. There are times he really thought that they were out to get him. Now, while that may only Ron's perception and the twins had many other things to do with their time, perception is reality. In Ron's mind, you cavorted with the enemy."

"Do you think he'll get over it?" I was scared. I was only beginning to see this from Ron's point of view. Maybe I should have talked to Harry about this a lot sooner.

"I don't know. You _shagged_ Fred. It's not like you just snogged him-that would have been bad enough," Harry explained. "What possessed you to do that?"

"I have insecurities of my own, Potter! Has anyone ever stopped to consider that?" I burst out. Harry started a bit. I didn't know where the sudden anger came from, but it appeared. "Fred made me feel wanted _and_ he pursued me. Ron may have fancied me, but he never acted on it. I was exhausted from trying to figure out why. It was easy with Fred. He didn't mind that I was smart; he didn't mind that I was a rule follower. In fact, I broke a lot of rules to be with him." The spark left my argument by the end. Breaking rules had consequences. I was facing them.

"In the end, though, I realized that I just missed Ron," I admitted after a few moments lost in my thoughts. "We met one time after Ron returned to us and I told Fred. I told him that I couldn't do it anymore. I guess I realized that I was just using Fred." I hiccupped again.

"So, when Ron kissed you during the battle?" he asked, letting the question hang in the air.

"I'd broken things off with Fred by then," I said to my empty plate. "But we'd been meeting before Ron rejoined us for the Horcrux search." I admitted. Harry smirked a wicked grin.

"What?" I asked blushing at the way he stared at me disbelievingly.

"You mean that while we were running around Britain, trying to elude snatchers who were out to torture and kill us, you were meeting Fred for a shag?" His wide smile still split his face as she shook his head at me. "You randy little tart!" he said it with such fascinated humour that I couldn't be offended. It was more than what he was insinuating, but he wasn't too far off base.

"Well…" I mumbled, "yeah," I finished stupidly. I knew at the time it was stupid and risky, but looking back on it-it looks downright suicidal. But I felt so hopeless and Fred gave me something to hope for-at least to look forward to. All those weeks and months traveling around with no clue what we were doing or where we were going. Ron left us and I felt completely alone and rejected. The Horcrux strengthened my insecurities: I felt like my whole life I operated on the edges of social groups. I was an only child and didn't understand sibling love and apparently I underestimated the rivalry as well. I was actually jealous of the same bond that Ron begrudged. I spent all my time with a nose in a book so at school I could be the smartest so people would like me. It turned into the reason that most people _didn't_ like me. At Hogwarts I was still on the edge with only Harry and Ron as my closest friends and even they were on the outside most of the time. Add to the fact that half the time one of the three of us was in a fight with another-I just wanted to be wanted. And Fred wanted me.

"Hermione, now that the war is over and most of the danger is behind us I can honestly say that I have never been more impressed with you than I am right now. You never cease to amaze me," he was still grinning.

"I used to be pretty impressed with myself until I started talking to you." I squeaked. "Now, I think I may have really screwed things up. I mean, I knew this was going to be hard, I knew it, but I didn't think..." I just didn't think. That was my problem. There was an awkward silence as I thought about all the things I might have mucked up.

Harry cleared his throat. "So what'd the self-proclaimed short leg of our Golden Trio do last night that he ended up here drinking a bottle of fire whiskey? I'm assuming you told him and he went mental."

"Well, he basically left without a word. I expected he'd come back after he thought about things. Ron always comes back—as we've experienced. It was this morning that really hurt." I looked up at the ceiling trying not to cry again.

"He left here rather early to go talk to you. He must have taken care of some things before he went to your place," Harry mused. "I didn't get a chance to talk to him sober."

"He cleaned himself up, Harry. He looked...well, he looked great. He was wearing clothes that Fleur would have chosen for him, his hair was cut and washed, and he actually shaved. The problem was that when he came into the house, I wasn't alone." Harry's jaw dropped again.

"'Mione! You vixon!" Again, his tone was joking. But I gave him my most terse and serious Granger Glare anyway. He knew nothing seedy was going on, why couldn't Ron know me better? "Who was it?"

I was quiet for a moment. I just looked at him. "Hermione, who?" Harry grinned.

I couldn't bring myself to say it, but I finally did.

"Draco Malfoy."

I hadn't heard Harry laugh that hard—Ever.

Never.

Tears streamed down his face and he nearly fell off his chair. And at one point his hand came down on the table catching the end of his fork and flipped it across the room. I remained unamused and waited for his fit of giggles to subside.

"You done?" I asked.

"No," he laughed some more and spasms continued for a few more minutes like aftershocks of a terrible earthquake. "I think I am now." He wiped his eyes with one more spasm. "Why was Malfoy there?" One more spasm.

"Because, he's," I didn't know if Harry would believe it if I told him, so I stammered, "er…he's kind of become my friend and I don't think he wants anyone to know, so please don't say anything," I pleaded.

"I'm sure he doesn't. He's been passing us information on Death Eater locations for weeks now and he's told us that he can't be seen with any of us or they'll suspect him. It was a very long vetting process to get his security clearance, but he's proved to be a very valuable asset." I was surprised Harry told me that so openly, but given everything we've been through, I knew he trusted me. There was another thing that was going to look like a secret to Ron. Ron refused to believe that Malfoy could change. Numerous times he reminded us about the people who almost died in Draco's bid to kill Dumbledore and he refused to hear our arguments on how those were all accidental. Ron had a point, and that was his place in our trio. We needed his skepticism, but sometimes it was downright annoying.

"Oh," I didn't know what else to say. "So I shouldn't mention anything?"

"No. Not unless he brings it up." He eyed me speculatively. "He's changed, but he doesn't show many people."

"Oh, I know it. Why do you think I let him come to my house? I like him Harry. I like him a lot," I confessed.

"Does Ron need to be worried about those feelings?" Harry was looking out for his friend. I couldn't be offended. I'd just revealed a torrid affair I had after feeling rejected. I could see Harry's fear there. I wasn't going to run into Draco's arms that was for sure.

"Merlin, no! I don't fancy him," I exclaimed. "Contrary to Ron's belief that I 'fuck,'" and I used air-quotes to show I was quoting my misled boyfriend, "every man I'm alone in a room with, I have only ever wanted two men that way my whole life. It just so happens that they share a last name."

"He didn't accuse you?" Harry shook his head in disbelief. I knew he could imagine it. He'd been through it when Ron was feeling the effects of the Horcrux. I nodded. "In front of Malfoy?" I nodded again.

"I came straight here because I couldn't stand to look at him. Well, I couldn't stand for him to look at me like that. I feel it Harry, I feel how much of a right he has o be upset with me. And I'm frightened. How do I get past this? How do I get over the fact that he thinks so little of me?" The tears began rolling down their well-used tracks yet again.

"It's not you he thinks little of, Hermione. He doesn't think highly of himself. Finding out that you and Fred were-" he moved his hands while he looked for words, "together is going to very difficult for him to overcome. He's going to wonder why Fred and not him. You went through a lot of trouble to be with Fred, he going to wonder why he wasn't worth the trouble." I knew he was right. But I was just so tired after everything that had happened. And, What I hadn't revealed to anyone, ever, because I hadn't told anyone of my relationship with Fred, was the amount of guilt I felt for breaking things off with Fred right before the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Fred died knowing I had chosen Ron over him." Harry was good enough to keep up with the subject change. "If I had just waited to break things off, he would have died with things the way they were and we would have been happy and I could have dated Ron anyway and…."

"Hermione, stop," Harry's face was serious but his tone was caring. "Don't do this to yourself. You would have felt guilty no matter what happened. And the way it stands, Ron may be able to get past this _because_ you broke things off with Fred _because_ you love Ron more. That is what Ron needs to know and focus on."

"Okay," I conceded. I took a deep breath and allowed it to puff out my cheeks as I exhaled. "Thanks, Harry." We both turned when we heard the front door close. I knew who it was, and I didn't know if I could look at him yet. I couldn't bear to see disgust and disappointment in his eyes. I felt that enough on my own. I turned back around and looked at Harry who was trying to make his face look impassive.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said as he stood up. "Hey, Malfoy," Harry greeted a little surprised. I did not expect Draco, but I still couldn't turn around.

"So this is where the mighty Order of the Phoenix met?" Draco drawled in his familiar snide tone. He really was a good actor. "Care to give me a tour so Granger can beat Weasel to a bloody pulp in private." New Draco's slights took on new meanings and his snide tone sounded more satirical. He was mocking himself. I grunted, but didn't turn around. I knew Draco would understand.

"Sure. I'm sure you know it was the Black's place before it was mine…." Their conversation died away as Harry took Draco up the stairs rattling something showing him where he kept the hippogriffs.

"I'm sorry," Ron said. "Merlin, I'm so sorry about accusing you...with," he trailed off. He didn't dare move towards me; I could see his reflection in a pot hanging over the stove. He knew me; he trusted me; he just got distracted sometimes. I didn't think I deserved it. I'd lost confidence in myself.

"Hermione, please."

I lifted my head and turned it to make eye contact. His faced was pinched with nervous anxiety and his eyes were heavy with fear. I scooted out the chair next to me indicating he should sit down. I watched his face melt with relief, but he trod softly and quickly to my side. We both knew I was going to forgive him, but would he forgive me?


	6. Chapter 6 Secret Consequences

**A/N: If you're still hanging in there with me, thanks. Here's the next installment. School is almost out and I am traveling to a few continents this summer so updates may slow down a bit. Thanks again to Marina and EStrunk for their thoughts and perusals.**

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She pulled the chair out for me to sit. So I didn't hesitate, I just moved. There was so much I wanted to say that I didn't know where to begin. So as soon as I sat, I didn't give her time to speak.

"Okay, let's go through this point by point," I said trying to appeal to her organized side, "first this morning, then maybe the Draco thing, and then Fred." She nodded. I took a deep breath.

"I know the way I acted this morning was completely," I searched for an adequate word, "bonkers." I failed. I eyed her speculatively, looking for a reaction. Her eyes were red and puffy. She had never been a pretty crier and I mentally kicked myself for causing this. She nodded her head and her face remained sad and her eyes revealed how much she was hurting.

"Okay. First of all, I went round your place to apologize for leaving you last night. I'm glad you were honest with me and if, for some bloody miracle, we ever get past all of this, I always want you to be honest with me." I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. I took that as a good sign and it made my heart flip.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I'm glad I had some time to talk to Malfoy. I'm not glad that I shouted at you or that I accused you of sleeping around. But, Hermione, this Fred thing, it bloody hurts. You _know_ how the twins made me feel. I think I believe the worst all the time because why would someone like _you_ be attracted to _me_?" I hadn't planned to ask her that question and in asking it I realize how pathetic it sounded. She opened her mouth to answer. I held my hands out in a blocking motion, "But that's point three, let me get this next part out." My mind was spinning and I didn't want to lose my train of thought.

"When I finally realized that Malfoy wasn't a wanker any more, or," I still didn't know if I trusted him, "at least he's pretending to not be one, he said something that really struck me." I had decided that wankers can be right once in a while. I picked up one of her small hands and held it in mine. "Malfoy said he and I suffer from the same personality defect—insecurity. And if you could forgive him, then maybe you can forgive me. And I realize now, that that is the reason I always think the worst. I've put you on a pedestal, 'Mione, and that's not fair to either of us." She fell off the pedestal, last night, but I didn't verbalize that thought. Her brow furrowed as she thought about my words and I continued on.

"I'm sorry about jumping to a conclusion this morning. I am hurt and angry and we have a lot of things to discuss. I went 'round your place to do that and I was confronted with the one person whose caused us more fights in the past few months than anyone else. I'm still angry, and a bit mad, but not about Draco being at your place. Though," I added, "I hope soon you'll tell me how the hell that happened, because he's still a snotty little bastard."

Hermione was always a stickler for rules, agonizingly precise, naggingly punctual, and annoyingly correct almost all of the damn time. But, it was those things, combined with her stellar perception that made people want to be better around her. _I_ wanted to be better. Just sometimes I felt like I could never measure up. Maybe her fall was a good thing. It was time she had a fuck up. But, this was one painful fall for me. It was like she landed on me. Her face softened and the hard edges of her clenched jaw slacked ever-so-slightly and the iciness of her eyes melted. Her pursed lips parted as she exhaled long and slow.

"You are such a wanker sometimes," she said to me.

"I know," I admitted.

"You have to stop this," she said.

"I know."

"I love you," she admitted softly. It looked like she wanted to say something else. I looked into her brown eyes and I saw it there. But something had changed in me in the past few hours.

"I know." I said, because, I did know it. "Are we done with what happened this morning then?" I asked. She nodded. "Good." I looked at her and squared my shoulders.

"Malfoy?" I asked. "You know how I feel about him, too!"

"Merlin, Ron," she dropped her head in her hands like a heavy weight had been placed upon it, "I've messed up so much! I shouldn't have kept that a secret from you either. There just never seemed to be the right time to tell you that I've been trying to help him."

"Help, him? Hermione, he was a fucking Death Eater! He was going to _kill_ Dumbledore and it the process he almost killed _me_, your boyfriend. Remember me?" She flinched and I realized I was bordering on becoming offensive and I remembered my earlier goal of controlling myself so I didn't have to back pedal. "Sorry. It's just that we've been through this so much over the last few months..." and then it occurred to me why she'd been so adamant about his ability to change. She'd been watching it. "So how do you know he isn't a spy?" I finally asked.

"I don't. Ron, I'm so messed up right now." She shook her head and ran her hand over her forehead. "I've been making justifications in my head for so long about Fred and Draco that what I've concocted just seems right. But now that some of my justifications are spoken aloud," she looked away as a tear rolled down her face, "I realize how crazy and dangerous and just plain stupid I've been. It's not like me. I don't know what's wrong with me." She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth a little bit. My heart tore a little, she was listening to me-not arguing. She was considering the reasons I might have to be upset.

"I know I haven't been treating you like I love you and trust you. I get that now. But I _do_ love you and that's why I get crazy," I promised. "But this Fred thing-that hurts, Hermione. He was my brother. And you knew how I felt about my brothers. I just. . ." I shook my head not knowing how to tell her that choosing one of the twins over me made it extremely hard to get over. She pulled me out of my thoughts after a few beats.

"I know, Ron. I don't even know what I was thinking," she started.

"Stop," I said a little annoyed, "I know what you were thinking. Fred hit on you and you fell for it. I get it. You made it clear last night that I was shoving Lavender in your face." I really didn't want to belabor this point because that would go badly very quickly. "I'm sure that one thing led to another and you stole moments here and there. If you were trying to hurt me, it worked. I wasn't trying to hurt you with Lavender, I just wanted a snog and..." I didn't know how to end that sentence without sounding like a wanker. "I got sucked in by her," I finished weakly.

"So did I," Hermione said. "I never set out to hurt you. It was just," her eyes met mine, "thoughtless. I wanted to be selfish for a little bit."

POW! I felt like I had been hit in the gut. That was my relationship with Lavender. I never set out to hurt anyone, or flaunt anything. It was just convenient. I was curious and Lavender was willing. She was very willing and she didn't care who was around. I was a randy teenaged boy. But something about the situations didn't measure up.

"You said you loved him, though," I recalled. "I admit that I let things go too far with Lavender and I didn't have the stones to break up with her when I should have, but you being in love with Fred makes this a whole lot harder for me."

"I know. That is why it took me so long to tell you. I've justified so many things in my mind that I don't know what's right anymore," and she hiccupped, "I feel so lost." Tears began to stream down her face again, but I didn't cause them this time. "I have to really figure some things out."

"So do I, 'Mione. So do I," I said solemnly.

"And how are you going to do that?" Hermione asked me. Her tone was curious not mocking or even being sarcastic. It was almost as if she was looking for direction. She wanted to know how I was going to figure things out. She wanted to know if I had a plan. She always remarked on how things couldn't get done if we didn't have a plan and nothing would change if we didn't do anything. The problem was I hadn't thought of a plan. Apparently neither had she.

"I haven't worked all that out yet, but I know that I need to _do_ something with myself." She perked up a little at this, like she was interested. "Harry said that there's a spot that opened up for an apprentice at the Auror's office where he works and I think I'll apply. And, I think George needs some help at the shop. His flat is a bit disgusting, too, so I think I'll stay there a while and help him out." I was pretty impressed that I came up with all of that on the spot. I'd been putting off going to work with Harry for a while. I just wanted some time to breathe. Harry said too much time breathing gave him too much time to think. With all this new information, I was beginning to believe him.

"Those sound like good things, Ron," her voice was level but devoid of emotion. She was deep in thought and that worried me a bit until she placed her other hand on top of mine. I could tell she made a decision because she took a breath and nodded. After a few moments, she brought her eyes up to mine again.

"I'm going to go after my parents," she said and I could see tears forming in her eyes. "I need them, Ron." I think I understood that. As much as I complained about my hovering mum and my daffy dad, I don't know what I'd do without them. I hadn't even considered her feelings added to all our other losses.

"Do you want me to come with you and help? I could…." She cut me off.

"No. This is something I have to do on my own. You have to make something of yourself. I can't do this Ron," and her hand lifted and gestured between the two of us before she placed it back on mine, "if I'm the source for your self-worth. You have to find that on your own." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I love you, but you have to love you, too. You have to quit seeing yourself in term of someone's brother or Harry Potter's best friend. Go make something of Ronald Weasley." She reached up to touch my cheek. "There is so much that has been and can be done," she whispered stroking my cheek with her thumb.

I knew she was right, but her statement irritated me nonetheless. I wasn't going to bring that up right now though. There were many other things we needed to work on before I some catty remark about her piety. If we couldn't get past some of this big stuff, that little thing wouldn't even matter. But, I was sorry that I hurt her so much.

"I'm sorry I make you cry so much," and I reached over the wipe the tears from her face.

"Oh, Ron, don't be. I can only cry this much because I love you so much. Let's just reduce the frequency." She smiled at me. "Besides, I think what I've done," she couldn't get the words out, "to hurt you so much...I think I've lost my own self-worth. I have to go find my own again."

"Okay," I said and she leaned her face into my hand. I could see it was taking a toll on her. I believed that she didn't start a relationship with Fred to hurt me and I believed that Fred was just an opportunist. The twins' pranks were painful, but they did them to get a laugh. They never set out to hurt anyone. But I figured that was what caused most of the problems in life. Most people—Voldemort and Bellatrix aside—didn't set out to hurt others maliciously. They just didn't think. I was certainly guilty of that. I had some lingering guilt about how I treated Lavender when I actually allowed myself to think about it. That's when I figured out that my form of selfishness what just not thinking about things through. It took too much time and effort, sometime, to think about things too hard and how it would affect others. Most peoples' skins were too thin anyway, I had reasoned to myself many times, and they just needed to get over things. That was true in some cases, but both Hermione and I had done some pretty thoughtless and hurtful things. We both had some things to work out.

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" I asked emerging from my thoughts.

"No. But it will probably take a couple of months." My face fell and she continued to explain. "I know where I put them, but I don't know where they ended up. I know what names they used, but I may not recognize them. The kind of memory charms I did could change their personalities, especially if I did them poorly," she sniffled. "And, depending on how much they change, the reversal could be very difficult. I've been doing quite a bit of reading on it. Too bad Professor Lockhart is still nutters," she mused.

"Months?" I squeaked.

"Ron, we both need this time. You have broken my heart a number of times over the years. And I know," she let out a little gasp, "that I have really hurt you, too. We both played some pretty petty games and maybe some distance can help us put things in perspective." Her candor tore through me and she sniffled again. Another tear made its journey down her forlorn face. "We both need to believe in ourselves before we can begin to believe in each other again."

We needed to be equally matched. That was a tall order in my mind, but Hermione knew I could do it. Knowing that she knew I could do it made it seem possible. Hermione was almost always right. Or she used to be.

"Okay," I nodded and took a deep breath, "I'm going to miss you terribly, but okay. I can do it. I will do it." She smiled at me again.

"We'll both do it," she agreed. She took another deep, fortifying breath. "Good. I'm going to leave now before I change my mind. I need some time, too, to clear my head. I've told you about Fred, now. And Ron," her voice quavered, "I miss him so much. And I have to get over the fact that I broke things off with him right before he died. I feel immensely guilty for that. He knew that I chose you over him." Seeing her so upset, made me forget that she shagged my brother. Fred was a special person and she hadn't been able to grieve properly. I opened my arms to her and just held her like we would have done before everything got so messed up. I savored the moment because I knew it would be a long time before I'd get to do this again.

"Shh, Hermione," I soothed. She sobbed in my arms and I realized that she needed to do this ages ago and the pain and the guilt that she was carrying must have been unbearable. But she bore it just like she bore Bellatrix's curses. This strong woman loved me and I had to go discover—and believe—the reasons why. "You go do what you need to do. I'll be here doing what I need to do. If you need me, or Harry, or any of my family for anything…" I squeezed her gently, "you just let us know." She nodded and those chestnut eyes looked up into mine and I could see the depth of her love again. I knew I loved her. What I had to do was figure out if I loved her enough to get past the fact that she loved Fred, too. I couldn't bloody well go have a shout at him.

"Okay," she whispered to herself. "Okay. That means a lot, Ron, really it does." She hugged me briefly. "I have to go now." She turned to me, placed her hand on my cheek, kissed my lips so softly that I almost didn't feel it, and then I was left alone with the gentle pop of her dissaparation. My heart tore a little more. There was so much to think about and I didn't want to think. It hurt too much.

I sat down on the kitchen chair again and looked over at the counter. I saw the dish with the shepherd's pie she had summoned from her own flat and pulled out my wand. "Accio," I muttered and did the rest non-verbally, bringing the dish towards me. It landed in front of me with a soft thunk. "Engorgio," I muttered it expanded enough to feed Malfoy and me, if he was hungry—and just a little left for later. I covered the leftovers and sent the dish to the cooler in the corner of Harry's kitchen. Grimmauld Place didn't have electricity or a refrigerator like Hermione's. It did, however, have a cupboard that magically kept everything cool like most wizard houses.

I was mostly finished with my plate when Harry and Malfoy came back into the kitchen. I pushed the other plate towards Malfoy who smirked remembering my prediction that Hermione'd be here because of the missing pie.

"You're mum left me some cookies the other day. Want some?" Harry asked me walking over to the counter to the cookie jar.

"No," I said.

"Yes," Malfoy said louder than me. "This is brilliant," he said pointing to his plate.

"Malfoy, don't they feed you at your house?" Harry asked bringing the cookie jar shaped like a giant golden snitch. Ginny gave it to him for his birthday this last summer. He offered one to Malfoy.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, but Malfoy answered his question first. I found it so odd after everything we'd been through the last seven years that the three of us were sitting here eating lunch together like nothing had happened.

"Sure I was fed, but it was all posh and fashionable food."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means the serving sizes are crap and I walked around starving any time I was away from Hogwarts, to be honest. I used to be able to order the house elves to sneak me food, but one of them got punished severely for doing it. So I stopped," he shrugged. "These are brilliant, too," he said taking a bite of the cookie, spraying bits of it across the table.

"Well that's just sad," I said. "He was punished for following orders?" I shook my head. I was glad Hermione wasn't here. She'd be livid. My heart ached.

"Ron," Harry jerked my attention back to him, "where's Hermione?"

"She left," I said and suddenly became very interested in a hangnail on my thumb. But I had a plan; I had to ask him about the plan. "Look, Harry, who would I have to see to apply for that internship down at the Auror's office? I was thinking about going by tomorrow."

"What do you mean she left?" Harry and Malfoy said in unison.

"Umm," I cleared my throat, "she went to take care of some things." I didn't know if I should say anything with Malfoy around. Her parents' whereabouts were top secret.

"When's she coming back?" Harry asked through a mouthful of cookie.

"Umm," I cleared my throat again, "don't know, exactly. Maybe a few months." All movement stopped and they both just stared at me.

"Ron, I thought you were going to fix things," Harry said. Malfoy just looked—well he looked depressed.

"This is how we're fixing it. She's in search of something she misplaced and I'm going to make something of myself," I repeated hoping the more I said it the more it'd come to pass. They both continued to stare at me. "Look, it was her idea!" I was starting to get upset. "I had to let her go."

"Well, are you going to hear from her?" Harry asked. I didn't know.

"It's Hermione," Malfoy piped up, "if she wants to communicate, then she will." He looked at his empty plate. "I sure hope you know what you're doing, Weasley. That girl means a lot, to a lot of people." Harry shifted his gaze to Malfoy and we both stared at him. Never in a million lunar calendars would I have imagined those words tumbling from Malfoy's mouth about the girl he used to call "Mudblood." The war had changed him; and he was...nicer? Not really.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" I finally said showing a little emotion. "But she does," I said more quietly. "And she said that we both have things to do and this is the best time to do them." We were all quiet for a few moments, probably all contemplating what she meant to us. She was the driving force in my life; a constant reminder that there is always something to be done. I could see her being the same for the other two as well.

"Yeah. Tomorrow'll be great to come down to the office, Ron. What time should we expect you?" Harry asked me seeming to fully understand my need.

"Nine o'clock. I'll be there at nine," I replied. I figured I get there right as the day began and make a good impression. I already had my hair cut, thanks to mum.

"Come on, then," Harry said to the both of us.

"Where are we going?" Malfoy asked getting up from the table like Harry's will controlled his.

"We're going to see if she left us any instructions. If she's going to be gone for an extended period of time, she had expectations for each of us. Hermione would never pass up a chance to be bossy," Harry smirked. That seemed to cheer Malfoy up a bit.

"Let's just go straight to her kitchen," Harry said. "Then we don't risk Malfoy's discovery any more than necessary." I didn't know what that meant, but I agreed. I sent the dishes to the sink to be cleaned while Malfoy and Harry disapparated.

When I appeared in Hermione's kitchen Harry handed me a scroll with my name on it. Malfoy was already reading his with a smile. I unrolled mine:

_Ron,_

_I'm not asking you, or expecting you, to be anything other than what you are. Our lives have been defined by dark powers and we worked very hard to ensure the world was not overtaken. You were a part of that, Ronald. You brought your own special gifts and insights to that war and we triumphed. It's time you see what the rest of us do. I love you and that is not going to change over time and distance. You need to know that, too. Take care and I'll send word, as soon as I'm settled and know where I'll be staying. I love you._

_Always, 'Mione _

I knew she was right. I had to find my own worth. I had a feeling this was going to be harder than I expected, but we'd survived so much more. Surely we could weather this, too. We would.

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**Review if you feel the need to contribute something constructive.**


	7. Chapter 7--Unearthing secrets

**A/N: Here's the next installment. I'm taking most of the comments now to mean I'm being successful in creating flawed characters that need to make some resolutions. I think I'm doing Ron some justice now (an admittedly major flaw in the first few chapters) and some time apart will give them time to figure some things out about themselves. Hermione's got to dig her hole a little deeper first, though. **

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I knew that I could only apparate to some place I had been before, so I apparated to Paris where my family and I had been on holiday several times. There were also limitations on how far one could apparate and I didn't quite know what those limitations were. Nor could I ask without revealing what I was up to. I didn't want to push the limits. Besides, it gave me an excuse to take some time to think and see the world. So from Paris I caught a train that would take me across the continent and through Turkey and eventually to Malaysia. At different stops along the way, I would seclude myself, apparate back to the spot of my last apparation and then back to the train station. That way, if all went well, I could apparate home by hopscotching across continents if I needed to. I knew it would be dead useful if things didn't go well.

The first part of my journey took me through eastern France and all the way through Germany. I reasoned that most wizards could apparate all over the British Isles, so that meant that I could sleep no more than six hours on the train without apparating to my last point. It was slow going, but it was interesting and I could get the reading done that I needed to get done.

To pass the time, I studied language translating charms, which were especially useful once I got out of Germany and Austria. There weren't as many English speakers in Slovenia, Croatia, and Serbia. And even less fewer in Bulgaria and Turkey. I thought of Viktor while passing through Bulgaria, but had no way of finding him. And, to be honest, I wasn't quite sure if he wanted to be found by me. He hadn't seemed very talkative at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

I did take some time in Istanbul, to see some sights and visit the Byzantine library. I made a mental note to come back here and spend a few weeks in the magical library—it would take at least that long to satisfy my curiosity. Turkey was also a wonderful place full of delightfully different foods. Using the Glossa Charm made it easier to ask questions and try new things. I did learn that the kebobs served at the corner place down the street from my parents' old house were vastly different from an actual, Turkish kebab.

I used glamour charms through the rest of the Middle East, disguising myself as a man. I didn't leave my train car unless it was absolutely necessary. I also used many of the security charms I'd learned traveling with Harry and Ron. I kept up with the muggle news, and I didn't want to take any chances in such a volatile area.

Once I arrived in India, I took a day to walk around the markets and landed myself in the center of massive Diwali preparations. When I boarded the train to go to the next city, I read the background of the festival. The day I was there was the third day of the week-long celebration, which I read, was a time to celebrate the hard work of mothers and honor them. I felt my sense of purpose renewed. I took it as a sign that I was on the right track and in the right place. The third day of Diwali is the chief celebration where people buy and wear their best, so I bought a beautiful deep red sari dappled with sequins that sparkled in the warm Indian sun. Again I applied a glamour that darkened my skin and hair to better blend in. I applied a lengthening charm to my hair and braided it down my back. I'd always been fascinated with Indian culture and, after seeing Parvati and Padma's saris I had always wanted one. I was not going to waste this opportunity.

I decided to stay for that evening's celebration which was also to recognize important friendships. I thought of Ron, Ginny, Harry and even Draco as I walked down the crowded street. I wandered past the many houses whose doors and windows remained wide open and all aglow with diya lights welcoming in the spirit of Lakshmi. Fireworks boomed and lighted the sky with greens stripes, red and gold bursts, and purple spiders. People were warm and friendly and offered all sorts of delicious treats both sweet and savory; I had never eaten so well. I had heard about "Delhi Belly" so I charmed my stomach, whispering _Sanitas_, so I could eat without the fear of getting sick. I didn't want to offend someone by refusing their gift of food.

No one seemed to notice that I was alone. The festive feeling in the air was so inviting, I couldn't help but be happy. I knew I was right doing what I was, even if I missed Ron so much it hurt. I thought about apparating back home, just for a visit and there would be a few good reasons I could use to justify it. First off, I would confirm it was a possibility. I was fairly sure, but I could then be positive. And secondly, I could see Ron and reassure him—and myself—that things could only get better. But in the end, I decided not to. Apparation was physically exhausting when done back to back like that, and I would have to rest by the time I got home. I couldn't risk not wanting to leave. I had to go forward in order to go back. I had to finish what I started.

So after the delightful but exhausting Diwali celebration, I was just anxious to be in Australia. The celebration reminded me how much I missed Ron and Harry, but also how anxious I was to see my parents. I decided on the fastest route through Burma and Thailand, skipping Bangkok, down to Singapore. Then, I boarded a land-hopping ferry to Jakarta where I finally boarded a plane to Perth; the last leg was a close enough trip to fly and then to apparate back. When I arrived in Perth, where I'd sent my parents on their original cruise, I thought, maybe, my journey was done. Oh, how wrong I was. I did send an owl to Ron though, telling him I had finally reached Australia, but hadn't found my parents yet. I also assured him that I loved and missed him and encouraged him to write me back.

It turns out that I wasn't so bad at memory charms after all. I'd changed their names to Wendel and Monica Wilkins. They were still concealed as early retirees moved to a better climate but they both found themselves restless. So, the memory charms had worked well, and their old personalities bubbled to the surface. I found out from a former neighter that Wendel had a keen fascination with dentistry and enrolled in university in Queensland that offered a program. Monica was extremely supportive and it only took me a few days to find this information. I had inherited my desire for strict rule following, so things like leaving a forwarding address were easy clues to pick up. I also questioned neighbors and landlords claiming to be a niece and most were all too willing to help me.

Because Australia was too big to fly across and apparate back, I was going to hire a car and drive there. But even if I drove twelve hours a day, it would take four days. I wasn't a confident driver and I didn't fancy driving in a strange country for four days, so I hopped on a yet another train that took me around to the eastern side of the continent. And that took me three days, but at least I didn't have to drive it. I could read as I traveled.

I found a small furnished apartment not too far from the building for dental arts. It was about a ten minute walk from where my dad went to school along a main street and the view from the eighth floor was beautiful. I checked in and rode the lift to my floor making a mental check list of everything I needed to do. The euphoria of the Diwali celebration had worn off and again I started to feel very, very lonely. I decided the best remedy was a hot shower and a good night's sleep.

It was springtime in Oz, so I opened the windows and sliding door that led to the balcony. I was in the city but the flow of air felt nice and the temperature hovered in the low seventies. It was perfect. I stood on my balcony looking at St. John's Cathedral. It was gorgeous and I considered going for a look when a wave of fatigue washed over me and I headed towards the bathroom. I stopped at the small table and opened my beaded bag. I discovered a long time ago that it was easier to summon objects from the bag than to actually look for them, so I summoned my suitcase and toiletries bag. I decided to unpack a few things because it was better if it looked like I had some possessions if I found the Wilkens and then invited them over. I found a pair of light pajamas and took a long hot shower. I fell into bed, exhausted, and slept through the night, all morning, and into the early afternoon.

I woke to a gentle hooting from the bedside table. I smiled at the little thing. "Pig." He hooted again and stuck his leg out so I could remove his scroll. I did so and then got up and found my beaded bag on the table. "_Accio_ owl treats." I caught the box deftly and spread six of them out on the table for him. Ron must have sent this directly after receiving mine and Pig probably flew nonstop. Sure enough, he ate three of his treats and promptly nestled into himself and fell asleep. I knew exactly how he felt. I left the other three treats there next to a little bowl of water in case he was hungry when he woke up.

I unrolled the scroll and read the unmistakable scrawl that was Ron's handwriting, but noticed that was vastly improved from the chicken scratch I used to correct for his homework. It was like he took great care in forming each letter for me.

_Hermione,_

_I just received your owl and I have to say I have been worried sick. Not because I don't trust your abilities, Merlin knows you can handle anything. I just worry because I miss you. But don't you worry; I've been keeping myself busy. I won the open internship in the Auror's office and that keeps me very busy during the day. I have to study charms, potions, DADA, transfiguration, and dueling. It's like being at bloody school all over again. I know a good deal though, thanks to you and Harry. I just have to practice. I'd say it'd keep me studying all night, but then I go 'round George's place to help with the shop and the magic they use for some of their merchandise is damn tricky. I've learned more helping George than I did in my last three years at Hogwarts. I stay there some nights and George is spending more and more time there as well._

_When I'm not at George's, I stay at Harry's. Harry misses Ginny terribly and about once a week he has Kreacher go fetch her from Hogwarts for a little while. I try to be at his place, but not in hearing range. I figure if mum ever finds out I can say they were chaperoned the whole time. Next weekend is the Hogsmeade weekend for Hogwarts' students so Harry and I are going to go up and meet her there. George has trusted me to meet with Zonko about carrying some of our merchandise. He's dead scared that, if we open a shop in Hogsmeade, he'd go out of business. So I'm going up to work out a deal for him to carry our merchandise. I figure that will give Harry and Ginny some time alone. I thought I'd go see Aberforth at the Hogshead, too._

_Your house is being tended. Someone stays there overnight about once a week, but visits it every day. Your books are well tended and read as well. Don't worry there. Can you send another suggested reading list? We don't know where to begin with the American authors._

I stopped here and realized that Ron was referring to Draco without naming him. He was letting me know that Draco was still visiting my house even if I wasn't there. Draco must really be helping Harry and the Auror's office if Ron won't mention his name in the letter for fear of interception.

_Things here are really going well. I miss you terribly, but things are good. I can see the long game 'Mione. I can see three moves ahead of us. This time apart is like sacrificing the knight, but we'll get the checkmate in the end. Take care of yourself and come home as soon as you can. You are missed by many. And remember we're here if you need us—waiting and want to help._

_All my love,  
Ron_

Ron was doing well. He was busy. He was working _with_ Draco and helping Harry and Ginny. He was helping George and learning at the same time. He was worried about me. He loved me. All these things made me feel so much better. One of my biggest worries was that Ron would shut down or continue to live in someone's shadow. I was afraid the Fred factor was insurmountable. Instead I saw initiative to make things better and gratitude for things taught by those he believed caused the shadows he lived in. I hoped he was seeing the Ron the rest of us saw when we looked at himself.

After my long night's sleep, a hearty meal, and rereading my letter from Ron several times, I was reenergized to accomplish my task. I placed more treats out for Pig, grabbed my beaded bag and headed out the door to the dental arts building. I made it in eight minutes, setting a brisk pace, and found a little place on the hillside on the building's property overlooking two main streets and a city park. It was a great vantage point and I could see quite a bit. I didn't quite know what I was looking for, but I figured I could become acquainted with the area and patterns.

Popping up at my parents' place and confounding them to undo extensive memory charms was not going to work. I had to find out how much they had changed and how much they remained the same. My research told me that daily routines and personal appearance over time would tell me. Both my mum and dad agreed to extreme makeovers before I obliviated their memories. That way, I could tell if their true personalities would rise to the surface. Both mum and dad had set in their minds that, if ever possible, their memories would be restored. The reference books all stated that this was an important distinction to make for full restoration, _and_ the obliviator must also perform the restoration charm. But, there had to be sparks of recognition and they couldn't be forced. If my parents' appearances, over time, naturally shifted back, it would be a positive indicator.

The series of spells on each of them took almost an hour. All the books that I read stated that the reversal charms would augment that time proportionally with the amount of time from the original spell. I had it calculated. If I could get them to agree in the next few weeks, the reversal process would take about two and half hours each. If I could do the reversal on one, and do it well, then they could sit and wait quietly while I performed the next one. I myself, would need a recovery period as well, because this was extensive magic and I was not used to performing it for such a long duration of time.

I thought I could stalk the building to see if I noticed my dad easily, that would be my first sign. I'd have to watch for a few days to just learn when classes let out, and I thought that maybe I could strike up a conversation with someone just to get more information. I sat on my little hillside, planning strategy and questions when a familiar voice brought me from my thoughts. The thick accent told me who it was right away.

"Herm-own-ninny?" Viktor asked. I looked up at the tall, slender, but very muscular, Quidditch star. He still sported the beard he had at Bill and Fleur's wedding and he was just as handsome.

"Viktor!" I almost shouted. I hadn't seen a familiar face in over a month and it was nice. "What are you doing in Australia?" I asked him. He climbed up my little hillock.

"I could ask you de same ting," he smiled, "May I?" motioning his request to have a seat next to me.

"Certainly." I closed my notebook and stuffed it in my bag. He watched it impossibly disappear into the small clutch and smiled.

"Vell, I am here on holiday. Ve've been training very much and I needed a break. How have you been?" he asked and he seemed genuinely interested. His English seemed better than the last time we had a conversation and his accent wasn't as thick, but I didn't know if that was Viktor getting better over time or the effects of my Glossa charm.

"I'm doing well. Trying to figure out what to do with myself now that…" I didn't know how to phrase what I wanted to say and I didn't know what he knew about the events of the last year, "things have settled down." I looked down at the grass and ran my hand over it like my fingers were a rake. Viktor cleared his throat. I guess he didn't know what to say either.

"I took a train all across Europe to get here and I thought of you while I traveled through Bulgaria. I had wished I knew how to get a hold of you. I'm sorry we lost touch," I admitted.

"Yes. Tings got a little…how you say…" he mumbled a word in Bulgarian, "poludyal…" My translating charm was still working. So I helped him.

"Crazy?" I offered. He beamed.

"Yes! Crazy. Hermione! You speak Bulgarian?" he asked. I blushed.

"No. But I do a great Glossa Charm," I confessed with a deeper blush and a smile. Both the talking and the smile felt unfamiliar, but it also felt good.

"You vill have to teach me dat. I travel so much and so little people speak Bulgarian," he said.

"I can do that. How long are you here?" I asked sneaking a peek at him. He certainly was handsome. I did not regret giving him my first kiss. He was sweet and funny, when you weren't hounding him for an autograph. He was also very clever and I was surprised he didn't already know the glossa charm.

"I must to be back in Bulgaria by a…middle…November," he paused as he struggled for the English words. "I have a few veeks. How about you?" he asked sneaking his own peek at me. I could feel his eyes take me in and consider me. I was glad that I had made myself blush already because I could feel another burn up my neck. I wondered if he realized what I was thinking  
a moment ago and I felt a twinge of guilt, because I enjoyed the fact that he still seemed to be attracted to me.

"I have no idea. I have to figure some things out," I said and looked across the horizon at the cranes marring the skyline in the midst of some skyscraper construction. I considered the white cranes and they actually looked as if they fit into the cityscape. They didn't mar it at all and they were a reminder to me that there is always some type of construction or repair that needed to be done.

"Well, vould you please to have dinner with me vhile you figure these things out? I have found a delicious place for the barbeque not too far away. It is called de South Bank and it is very…ah…yummy." Again, he looked pleased "Ve can…catch up." He looked proud at his use of an idiom. "I haven't seen you since Fleur's vedding." It didn't escape my attention that he didn't mention Bill or the name Weasley. But dinner sounded nice and I wanted to talk to someone again.

"Sure. That sounds great," I conceded. "I've been traveling alone for a very long time and it would be nice to have some company."

"You traveled here alone?" he asked perplexed and a little hopeful. I really didn't want to get into the deep details about my relationship with Ron. So I didn't. But the hope in his eyes revealed that he might want rekindle what we once had. Was not telling him about Ron encouraging him? I liked that he was attracted to me—and that brought on more guilt.

"I'm meeting some people here, but their arrival date is…uncertain," I hedged. I had always trusted Viktor and even defended him against Ron's paranoid accusations during fourth year. But I had too much at stake to be cavalier with my information. I also saw the hope diminish a little which eased my guilt somewhat. I was so lonely and enjoying the easy conversation of an old friend so much, I didn't want to risk it by mentioning Ron—yet. I'd let that come up when it came up. And I was sure it would sooner or later.

"Ah," he answered. He looked at me and I could tell he wanted a deeper explanation. He wasn't going to get one so I just smiled at him.

"Let me finish up some things I was doing here," I offered, "and we can meet up in a few hours?" I asked. He returned my smile, happy that I hadn't refused him.

"Sounds very nice," he replied. "I am glad I recognized you sitting here," he trailed off leaving something unsaid. His eyes raked over me once again and I furtively checked to make sure my shirt buttons were all fastened. Was he trying to get back at me for leaving him hanging? I told him approximately where I was staying and we agreed on a meeting place.

"I'm glad you recognized me, too," I said as he stood to walk down the embankment again. "See you in a few hours."

Wow. I had more things to figure out, now. The ache of guilt intensified as I thought of Ron. I had promised him that my love wouldn't change over space and time—and it hadn't. But I also knew that having dinner with Viktor was pushing the limit. If Lavender was still alive and he had dinner with her…I'd be upset. No, I'd be angry and hurt and jealous. I groaned and dropped my head onto my knees. What had I done? I wanted Ron to believe in himself, but I might have just done something to make him doubt me. I was starting to doubt me. What was wrong with me?

"Are you okay, Miss?" Another familiar voice snatched me out of my reverie. My head whipped up and standing ten feet away from me, at the bottom of the little hill I had chosen as a lookout point, was my father. He looked just the same as every single memory I had as a child. He looked just the same as he did _before_ the makeovers; before the memory charms. My heart swelled with hope. Another sign? I didn't believe in signs. Did I?

"Yes, sir. Just boy troubles," I smiled. My father always wanted me to confide in him about boy troubles and I never would. I always thought it was silly how girls prattled on and on about them. But I was beginning to understand why they did.

"Well then," he smiled that warm and familiar smile that cleared away my gloom and helped me momentarily forget my guilt. "I'm sure you'll work it out then. You look like a bright girl."

"Yes sir." I couldn't just let that moment pass. He had found me and I hadn't worked out what to say or what to do. So I did something I was not good at, nor was I comfortable with—I acted on impulse.

* * *

**A/N: So, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to post this summer. I have many trips planned to different continents and a family vacation to Idaho. I've also just started another story that has dragged my attention away from this one. But, I have no control over the urge to work on a story so sitting on a plane my inspire me to work on this one as opposed to another. **

**Anyway, keep leaving your thoughts. Some of them make me smile because I think: we're getting there, people. Hang tight.**

**Again, thanks to MarinaNamaste and EStrunk for betaing and catching many things. Anything that slips through happens when I'm changing things later.**

**And, thanks for reading.**


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